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T  H  E 


SCIENCE  OF  DISCOURSE 


A    RHETORIC    FOR    HIGH    SCHOOLS 
AND    COLLEGES 


ARNOLD   TOMPKINS 

PK'.FESSOR  OF  PEDAGOGY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS,  AUTHOR  OF 

"  PHILOSOPHY  OF  TEACHING,"  "  PHILOSOPHY  OF  SCHOOL 

MANAGEMENT,"  AND  "  LITERARY 

INTERPRETATION  " 


34?  J: 


Boston,  U.S.A.,  and  London 
GINN    &    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS 

Cbe  fttbnuram  Press 

1807 

Dec.  ie-  1&C  l 


Copyright,  1889 
By  ARNOLD   TOMPKINS 


Copyright,  1897 
By  ARNOLD   TOMPKINS 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


INTRODUCTION. 

■■Kl" 

Man  continually  speaks  or  writes,  reads  or  gives  audi- 
ence. Rhetoric  deals  with  all  these  universal  and  lifelong 
processes;  hence,  its  practical  importance  is  obvious  and 
emphatic. 

This  study,  however,  got  its  name  from  the  one  exercise 
of  speaking  —  from  the  Greek  rhetor,  speaker  —  because,  in 
the  political  life  of  the  Greeks,  so  much  depended  on  the  art 
of  public  address.  If  this  study  should  be  named  now,  and 
after  the  most  effective  means  of  formal  communication,  the 
term  would  come  from  reading  or  writing;  and  it  would  not 
matter  which,  as  each  presupposes  the  other.  But  we  care 
now  nothing  for  the  name  except  to  insist,  in  obedience  to 
the  demands  of  both  life  and  logic,  on  its  extension  over  all 
phases  of  the  discourse  process. 

Until  quite  recently  it  has  been  customary  to  organize 
this  subject  under  the  literal  meaning  of  the  word,  attaching 
it  to  the  chair  of  oratory  in  college  and  confining  its  prac- 
tical value  to  those  engaged  in  public  address.  Thus,  as 
with  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  it  became  the  hidden  art  of 
the  few  by  which  fickle  masses  were  to  be  swayed.  But 
now  it  is  not  so  much  the  swaying  of  masses  that  is  needed 
as  masses  who  can  critically  estimate  and  appreciate  the 
utterances  of  others.  And  these  utterances  are  compara- 
tively seldom  made  now  in  the  form  of  public  address,  but 
in  that    of   the  book,  the    newspaper,   and   the    magazine. 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

Practical  life  demands  the  art  of  discourse  in  every  phase  of 
its  process,  and  the  interest  of  logic  as  well  as  life  is  sub- 
served by  the  discussion  in  unity  of  all  phases  of  the  proc- 
ess. Guiding  truth  in  any  one  can  be  found  only  in  the 
unity  of  all. 

The  distinction  between  speaking  and  writing,  and  also 
between  reading  and  giving  audience,  is  one  of  form  and 
instrument,  and  involves  no  valid  principle;  and  the  four 
processes  reduce  to  two,  —  the  process  of  interpreting  and 
that  of  constructing  discourse.  The  principles  controlling 
one  of  these  processes  control  also  the  other.  In  fact,  dis- 
course is  grounded  in  the  relation  of  constructer  and  inter- 
preter. He  who  makes  discourse  does  so  in  conscious 
recognition  of  the  process  of  interpretation,  and  he  who 
interprets  does  so  in  conscious  recognition  of  the  process  of 
construction.  Discourse  without  both  author  and  auditor  is 
unthinkable.  Hence,  to  treat  one  process  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  other,  as,  for  instance,  to  write  a  book  on  composition 
and  then  one  on  reading,  would  not  only  be  bad  economy, 
but  would  defeat  the  search  for  the  highest  guiding  truth  in 
either.  It  is  hoped,  therefore,  to  take  care  of  both  phases 
of  the  discourse  process  by  a  central  movement  in  the  proc- 
ess itself;  the  relation  must  take  care  of  the  terms  related 
by  including  them. 

Holding,  then,  that  the  demands  of  life  and  logic  must 
finally  be  the  same,  this  book  is  formed  under  the  twofold 
thought  (i)  that  rhetoric  is  not  a  study  for  the  special  few 
who  may  chance  to  speak  from  the  platform  or  at  the  bar, 
in  the  senate  or  in  the  pulpit,  but  for  the  mass  of  mankind 
who  all  need  to  communicate  thought  effectively  and  to 
interpret  with  accuracy  and  appreciation  ;  that  whatever  be 
the  vocation  or  profession  of  the  student,  discourse  in  all 
phases  of  its  process  remains  a  constant  necessity  to  him, 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

however  variable  to  his  needs  other  subjects  may  be  ;  and 
(2)  that  the  most  practical  results  follow  from  holding  the 
obverse  phases  of  the  discourse  process  into  the  unity  of  a 
single  discussion,  thus  giving  skill  in  all  phases  while  reach- 
ing more  deeply  for  the  principle  controlling  each. 

If  any  one  phase  of  discourse  study  should  have  promi- 
nence above  another,  it  is  that  of  literary  interpretation. 
The  school  does  not  exist  for  what  it  can  do  for  the  pupil 
while  he  is  simply  a  pupil,  but  for  what  it  can  influence  him, 
by  self-direction  and  self-propulsion,  to  do  for  himself  after 
the  days  of  formal  tuition.  And  no  opportunity  of  the 
teacher  is,  perhaps,  so  great  as  that  of  influencing  the  pupil 
through  an  appreciation  of  good  literature  to  read  through 
life  to  his  soul's  salvation.  Rhetoric  must  influence  strongly 
in  this  direction  by  making  the  pupil  conscious  of,  and  sensi- 
tive to,  the  elements  of  beauty  in  literary  productions.  Lit- 
erature is  rapidly  gaining  its  place  in  the  high  school  course, 
and  everywhere  teachers  are  asking  how  to  make  the  most 
of  it.  It  is  hoped  that  the  following  discussion  may  aid  in 
the  solution.  To  this  end  much  attention  has  been  given 
to  the  principles  and  practice  of  literary  analysis,  which  is 
also  theoretically,  as  well  as  practically,  proper;  for  beauty, 
while  an  essential  element  in  all  discourse,  is  its  highest  out- 
come and  crowning  glory. 

While  urging  strongly  that  rhetoric  should  bear  its  fruit  — 
that  it  should  take  possession  of  the  pupil's  life  for  the 
future  and  not  be  finished  and  put  on  the  shelf  as  having  no 
relation  to  life  —  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  treatment 
is  necessarily  unscientific,  a  mere  collection  of  rules  and 
recipes,  such  as  is  generally  found  in  so-called  practical  and 
elementary  books  on  the  subject.  The  more  closely  organ- 
ized becomes  the  discourse  process  in  thought,  the  more 
efficient  becomes  the  theory  in  practice.    It  would  be  strange 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

indeed  if  theory  and  practice,  science  and  art,  should  prove 
mutually  repellant,  as  so  much  talk  which  opposes  theory 
and  practice  implies.  The  more  perfect  one's  construction 
in  thought,  the  more  perfect  may  be  his  practice  under  guid- 
ance of  that  thought.  While  art  precedes  science,  it  is  only 
through  science  that  art  maybe  perfected;  hence,  art  is  made 
effective  by  perfecting  the  science. 

Besides,  the  scientific  treatment  is  the  only  elementary 
one.  The  rule  and  recipe  treatment  cannot  excuse  itself  on 
the  plea  of  making  the  subject  easy.  A  subject  may  be 
shunned  successfully,  but  it  cannot  be  simplified  without 
scientific  coordination.  If  the  subject  is  to  be  made  easy 
as  well  as  practical,  it  must  be  reduced  to  an  organized, 
coherent  body  of  knowledge.  And  if  this  were  not  true,  even 
the  high-school  pupil  is  not  a  child  and  must  put  away  child- 
ish things.  Not  at  all  that  I  should  expect  or  care  that  he 
be  conscious  of  scientific  experience,  but  that  he  should  have 
the  experience  without  reflecting  on  it.  He  must  see,  or 
see  nothing,  the  relation  of  unity  among  the  elements  of 
his  subject-matter.  In  studying  rhetoric  the  pupil  usually 
accepts  obediently  anything  and  everything  in  the  serial 
order  put  down  for  him;  would  accept  as  many  more  or  as 
many  less  in  any  order  in  which  they  might  be  served  up. 
Discourse,  real  living  discourse,  is  not  such  a  hodge-podge, 
and  the  sooner  he  finds  it  out  the  better,  both  for  ease  in 
knowing  and  power  in  practice.  What  is  needed  is  not 
dodging,  but  simple,  full,  concrete,  and  organic  statement. 

This  book  is  therefore  an  effort  to  enable  the  pupil  to  see 
discourse  as  it  unfolds  from  a  single  principle,  and  to  prac- 
tise constructing  and  interpreting  it  under  that  principle. 
He  must  become  aware  that  all  is  determined  from  within, 
and  not  a  mere  matter  of  external  legislation  by  some  rheto- 
rician.    Experience  has  proved  that  so  much  a  high-school 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

pupil  can  do,  and  it  needs  no  argument  to  convince  one  that 
such  organic  grasp  of,  and  specific  insight  into,  the  subject 
is  the  only  economic  way  to  an  efficient  practice  in  the  con- 
struction or  interpretation  of  discourse.  Whatever  the  result, 
such  is  the  earnest  conviction  which  prompts  the  following 
treatment,  and  which  accounts  for  the  deviation  from  the 
beaten  path  of  rhetorical  discussion. 


*> 


PREFATORY    NOTE. 

3637 


This  book  is  based  on  a  former  publication  by  the  author, 
under  the  same  title.  The  former  treatment  was  dominated 
by  a  pedagogical  motive,  which,  for  the  present  purpose, 
required  so  complete  a  rewriting  that  this  work  can  scarcely 
be  called  a  revision  of  the  former.  The  spirit  of  scientific 
coordination,  however,  which  prompted  the  old  is  the  ruling 
spirit  in  the  new,  so  that  I  can  say  now  as  I  did  then  :  — 

"  Whatever  the  result  of  the  effort,  this  book  has  been 
written  under  the  conviction  that  a  more  strictly  scientific 
treatment  of  discourse  is  possible  than  has  yet  been  made, 
and  which  would,  therefore,  yield  a  higher  discipline  and  a 
more  fruitful  application  in  the  art  than  usually  results  from 
discourse  study." 

Much  valuable  assistance  has  been  received  from  the 
leading  Rhetorics,  and,  when  of  a  nature  to  permit,  formal 
credit  has  been  given  in  the  text.  Special  credit  should  be 
given  to  C.  C.  Everett's  "  Science  of  Thought "  and  to 
Herbert  Spencer's  "  Essay  on  the  Philosophy  of  Style,"  the 
former  having  direct  influence  on  my  treatment  of  "The 
Thought  in  Discourse,"  and  the  latter  on  "The  Language 
in  Discourse." 


ARNOLD   TOMPKINS. 


Department  of  Pedagogy; 

University  of  Illinois. 

Champaign,  Illinois,  Feb.  5,  1897. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION iii 

THE  ORGANIZING  PRINCIPLE i 

THE    SUBJECT-MATTER    BOUNDED            ....  I 

THE    ORGANIC    ELEMENTS 8 

THE  PURPOSE  IN  DISCOURSE 13 

EFFICIENT    MEANS   TO    A    WORTHY    END  -  "13 

CONDITIONS    OF    EFFECTIVENESS             -            -            -            -  19 

The  Author  or  the  Interpreter  Himself                       -  19 

A  Sincere  Purpose         ------  24 

A  Definite  Purpose  -         -         -         -         •         -  31 

THE  THOUGHT  IN  DISCOURSE 41 

the  theme            41 

the  discourse  processes        ....  53 

Description                  - 61 

attributive  description                 -        -        -        -  62 

By  Attributes  of  Relation          -----  62 

By  Means  of  its  Properties    -         -         -         -         -  70 

PARTITIVE    DESCRIPTION 75 

THE    PROCESS    ILLUSTRATED 8 1 

Construction     -          -                    -----  81 

Interpretation                  ------  86 


Xii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Narration 93 

THE   CHANGE  AS   A   WHOLE 96 

Purpose    ---------  96 

Time    -        -  96 

Cause  and  Effect       -------  97 

Likeness  and  Difference         -         -         ...  97 

THE   CHANGE   IN    ITS   PARTS 98 

THE   PROCESS    ILLUSTRATED 103 

Construction     -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -   103 

Interpretation 106 

Exposition 11 1 

the  content  of  the  theme ii3 

Definition  -         -         -         -         -         -         -         _II3 

Comparison  and  Contrast      -         -         -         -         -        117 

Exemplification         -         -         -         -         -         -         -118 

Idealization  -  ------       120 

THE  EXTENT  OF  THE  THEME 1 23 

Division        -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -       124 

THE    PROCESS    ILLUSTRATED 1 28 

Construction  -         -         -         -         -         -         -128 

Definition -   128 

Comparison  and  Contrast  -  -  -  -129 
Exemplification  -         -  -  130 

Division  -         - 13° 

Interpretation  - 132 

Argumentation       -  137 

the  relation  of  whole  and  part-        -        -        -  i3s 

Deduction 139 

Law  of  Deductive  Inference 140 

Induction      -         -         -         -         -         -         •         -        14 1 

Law  of  Inductive  Inference 142 

THE   RELATION    OF   CAUSE   AND   EFFECT  -           -           -         I46 

A  Priori  Arguments         -         -         -  -         -         -   148 

Law  of  Inference  from  Cause  -         -         -       149 

A  Posteriori  Arguments  -        -        •  -        -        -  152 

Laws  of  I nferetice  from  Effect      -  -         -         -       154 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

PAGE 
GENERAL    LAWS    OF   ARGUMENTATION     -  -  -    l6o 

The  Law  of  Purpose 160 

The  Law  of  Unity    -  -         -         -         -  163 

THE  LANGUAGE  IN  DISCOURSE      -  -  -       171 

ITS    FUNDAMENTAL    LAW  -  -  -  -  -    17 1 

QUALITIES    REQUIRED    BY   THE    LAW   -  -  -         174 

Clearness  -  -  177 

Energy  -  ......       iyg 

Elegance 182 

CONDITIONS    FOR    SECURING   THE   QUALITIES       -  -         185 

Conditions  for  Securing  Clearness    -  -    185 

Conditions  for  Securing  Energy    -  -        191 

Conditions  for  Securing  Elegance     -  -         -    194 

THE    RHETORICAL    QUALITIES    SECURED       -  •-  -  I96 

LANGUAGE   AS    AN    OBJECT    OF    PERCEPTION  -    1 98 

Correctness  -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -199 

Distinctness      .         .         .         .  -         -         -   199 

Brevity  -         -  -       200 

Euphony  ....  -  -  202 

Harmony      ........       207 

Rhythm 211 

THE  DIRECT  RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT         221 
ASSOCIATION  OF  LANGUAGE  FORM  WITH  IDEAS  -    222 

Eamiliarity  -  -         -         -         -         -         -222 

Concreteness      -  -         -         -  230 

Precision       ........       234 

ORGANIZATION    OF   THE    IDEAS    INTO   THOUGHT       -    24I 

Conciseness   -----  -                 241 

The  Proper  Length  of  the  Sentence            -  -         -  249 

The  Proper  Arrangement  of  the  Sentence  -         -       255 

Unity  of  Sentence  Structure      -  262 

Unity  in  the  Discourse  Structure           -  278 

THE  INDIRECT  RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT    284 
FIGURES   OF    SPEECH  -  ...         289 

Figures  of  Spelling  -  -  ...  290 

Figures  of  Syntax  •         -  291 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

FIGURES   OF   THOUGHT  295 

Figures  of  Association       ......       299 

Synecdoche        ........  300 

Metonymy     -  ......       302 

Figures  of  Comparison  ......  304 

Expressed  Comparison 307 

Implied  Comparisons        -  ...  309 

Metaphor 309 

Allegory 318 

Figures  of  Contrast  ......       323 

Expressed  Contrast  -         -         -         -         -         -  323 

Implied  Contrast  -         -         -         -         -         -  325 

EXERCISE  IN  CLASSIFYING  AND  TESTING  FIGURES         -    329 

CONCLUSION  ---  -  -        -       335 

UNIVERSAL  OUTLINE  OF  DISCOURSE  -    336 

UNIVERSAL  OUTLINE  FOR  PRACTICE     -  -  -         337 

ANALYSIS  OF  "THE  RAINY  DAY"      -  '33^ 


THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 


THE   ORGANIZING   PRINCIPLE. 

The   Subject-Matter  Bounded. 

The  science  of  discourse,  or  rhetoric,  is  one  of  a 
large  group  of  language  studies  ;  some  of  which  are 
orthography,  orthoepy,  lexicography,  grammar,  composi- 
tion, reading,  linguistics,  and  literature.  In  a  general 
way  these  all  have  the  same  subject-matter —  language  ; 
but  each  is  restricted  to  a  given  view  or  phase  of  it. 

Yes,  view  or  phase,  since  each  subject  is  not  re- 
stricted to  a  part  ;  for  each  study  covers  the  entire 
extent  of  language.  Either  spelling,  pronunciation,  or 
definition  of  words  extends  to  the  whole  of  language. 
Grammar  is  the  grammar  of  the  whole ;  and  all  lan- 
guage is  composed,  and  is  supposed  to  be  read.  Lin- 
guistics includes  the  entire  organized  framework  of 
language  as  an  instrument  of  expressing  thought  ;  and 
literature  the  whole  of  thought  which  animates  such 
organized  framework. 

Thus  the  entire  territory  of  language  is  claimed  by 
each  language  study.  Rhetoric  has  no  corner  which  it 
can  call  its  own  ;  but  must  work  the  whole  field  over 
in  its  own  way.     What  way  ? 


2  THE    SCIENCE    OE    DISCOURSE. 

Language  divides  itself  into  the  very  obvious  parts, 
words,  sentences,  and  discourse.  These  are  the  lan- 
guage units  ;  and  it  would  seem  that  language  studies 
should  be  parted  off  to  deal  with  each  separately.  And 
so  they  are,  to  a  certain  extent  ;  for  we  have  word 
studies  —  orthography,  orthoepy,  and  lexicography  ;  a 
sentence  study  —  grammar;  discourse  studies — com- 
position, reading,  rhetoric,  and  literature.  But  with- 
out naming  all,  we  have  several  more  studies  than 
units  ;  and,  what  is  worse,  grammar  and  discourse 
studies  deal  with  words  and  sentences.  Any  unit  is 
not  confined  to  one  study,  nor  any  study  to  one  unit. 
This  appears  strange  ;  for  the  language  studies  can  do 
nothing  but  deal  with  the  language  units.  Why  do 
they  seesaw  in  this  way  ? 

The  trouble  arises  from  catching  up  the  wrong 
language  unit  ;  or  rather,  from  seizing  the  unity  at  the 
wrong  point.  We  are  accustomed  to  think  of  words  as 
parts  which  added  together  make  sentences ;  sentences 
as  parts  which  added  together  make  discourse  ;  and  dis- 
courses as  parts  which  added  together  make  literature. 
This  addition  seems  most  proper;  yet  words  may  be 
added  all  day  long  without  producing  a  sentence  ;  and 
sentences,  without  producing  discourse.  If  literature 
is  not  produced  before  discourses  are  added,  there  will 
be  none  after  the  addition  ;  and  if  there  is  not  a  dis- 
course before  sentences  are  added  the  addition  will  avail 
nothing. 

The  difference  between  these  language  units  is  not 
primarily  nor  essentially  that  of  length.  If  so  we 
should  be  inclined  to  ask,  How  long  must   a  language 


THE    ORGANIZING    PRINCIPLE.  3 

piece  be  made  before  it  becomes  a  sentence  or  a  dis- 
course ?  If  two  sentences  put  together  make  a  discourse, 
then,  if  addition  of  sentences  be  the  test,  one  hundred 
sentences  would  make  a  superb  oration,  and  one 
thousand  an  immortal  poem.  No  ;  men  have  made 
great  speeches  in  single  sentences,  long  or  short  ;  and 
good  sentences,  yea,  speeches  out  of  single  words. 
You  remember  this  :  "We  have  met  the  enemy  and 
they  are  ours  "  ;  and  Caesar's  famous  effort,  "  Veni,  vidi, 
vici  "  ;  and  "  Peace,  be  still."  And  either  "  Peace  "  or 
"  Vici  "  would  have  made  a  first-rate  discourse  by  itself. 

The  point  is  that  these  language  units  are  not  such 
with  reference  to  each  other,  but  with  reference  to 
what  each  expresses.  They  are  the  true  language 
units  ;  not  because  they  refer  back  and  forth  to  each 
other  as  whole  and  part,  but  because  each  expresses  a 
unit  of  consciousness, — a  mental  act  or  state.  Each 
faces  its  own  content  and  not  its  neighbor.  The  true 
parts  of  language  cannot  be  obtained  by  cross-section- 
ing, but  by  a  division  between  form  and  content,  — 
between  the  letter  and  the  spirit. 

To  show  the  point  exactly,  suppose  you  are  now,  in 
your  first  recitation  in  rhetoric,  laughing  outright  at 
the  idea  of  beginning  so  delightful  a  study  ;  and  the 
teacher,  to  restore  proper  class  dignity,  exclaims, 
"  Hush  !  "  Is  he  using  a  word,  a  sentence,  or  a  dis- 
course ?  Look  in  the  dictionary,  and  you  will  find  it  as 
a  word  ;  grammar  declares  it  to  be  a  sentence  ;  while 
rhetoric  maintains  it  to  be  a  discourse,  good  or  bad 
depending  on  whether  you  do  what  the  word  expresses. 
If  the  language-form  "hush"  is  thought  of  simply  in 


THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 


relation  to  its  idea,  its  action,  it  is  a  word  ;  if  in  relation 
to  its  thought,  its  triple  unity  of  subject,  predicate,  and 
thinking  act,  it  is  a  sentence  ;  if  viewed  in  relation  to 
its  effect  on  the  mind,  causing  to  hush,  then  it  is  a  dis- 
course —  good  if  it  accomplished  the  purpose  ;  bad  if  it 
further  provoked  the  laughing.  In  each  case  it  is  the 
same  material  unit,  but  it  becomes  a  different  language 
unit  as  we  turn  it  from  an  idea  to  a  thought,  or  to  an 
effect.  The  unity  is  not  in  the  mere  language  form, 
but  in  the  relation  of  the  form  and  its  spirit.  If 
language  were  mere  form,  then  the  material  juncture 
of  parts  would  decide  the  question  in  any  case  ;  but 
language  is  the  relation  of  form  and  content,  and  the 
units  are  to  be  selected  out  of  this  relation. 

Since  the  same  language  form  exists  in  more  than  one 
relation  at  the  same  time  the  same  form  may  be  classed 
differently,  as  attention  is  fixed  on  this  or  that  relation. 
A  man  may  be  a  governor,  a  churchman,  a  father,  a 
mason,  a  merchant,  etc.,  at  the  same  time  and  without 
violence  to  his  unity  ;  and  when  our  attention  is  fixed 
on  one  of  these  relations  he  is  a  governor,  or  a  father, 
etc.  A  language  form  considered  in  relation  to  an 
idea  is  called  a  word,  if  the  parts  are  fixed  ;  if  movable, 
a  phrase.  The  very  same  language  form  put  in  relation 
to  the  three  elements  of  a  thought,  subject,  predicate, 
and  copula,  is  classed  as  a  sentence  ;  and  if  studied  in 
relation  to  the  change  it  is  to  make  in  the  mind 
addressed,  it  becomes  a  discourse.  In  discourse  there 
is  always  an  auditor,  a  recipient,  in  relation  to  whom 
the  language  is  to  be  considered  ;  but  in  the  study  of 
language  as  words,  phrases,  and  sentences,  the  relation 


THE    ORGANIZING    PRINCIPLE.  5 

is  within  the  language  itself,  between  its  outside  and  its 
inside.  Discourse  study  does  not  separate  between 
form  and  thought  ;  but  holds  both  in  unity  to  an  end 
which  lies  beyond  them. 

The  primary  law  of  words  and  sentences  is  that  of 
correctness  ;  the  form  must  be  the  established  form  for 
expressing  a  given  idea  or  thought.  But  correct  forms 
are  not  ends  in  themselves  ;  they  are  only  means  to 
effective  utterance,  in  supplying  the  composer  with  all 
the  possible  ways  of  expression.  Rhetoric  selects  out 
of  the  many  forms  the  one  which,  under  the  circum- 
stances, will  be  most  effective.  While  there  are  many 
ways  of  expressing  the  same  thing,  there  is  but  one 
of  them  best  suited  to  a  specific  end  under  specific 
conditions.  Shakespeare  had  Macbeth  say,  when 
his  conscience  was  stinging  him  after  the  murder  of 
Duncan,  "  Duncan  is  in  his  grave ;  after  life's  fitful 
fever  he  sleeps  well."  This  can  be  said  in  forty  ways 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  dictionary  and  grammar  ;  but 
only  one  is  adequate  to  Shakespeare's  purpose.  He 
might  have  had  Macbeth  say,  "  Duncan  died  recently  ; 
I  still  live  ;  but  he  is  better  off  than  I,  for  he  does  not 
suffer  so  much  "  ;  or  "  Duncan  is  dead  and  buried  ;  hav- 
ing passed  the  tribulations  of  life,  nothing  now  annoys 
him,  but  my  conscience  hurts  me  terribly";  and  so  on 
without  limit.  The  rules  of  spelling  and  syntax  may  find 
no  fault  in  all  these,  but  rhetoric  would  enter  its  protest, 
and  challenge  the  right  of  all  but  one.  If,  in  the  pos- 
sibilities of  language,  an  expression  can  be  found  better 
than  Shakespeare's  he  must  be  tried  in  the  court  of 
rhetoric  for  flagrant  violation  of  the  law  of  his  art. 


6  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

We  see  at  once  how  delicate  and  exacting  is  the  art 
of  rhetoric  ;  yet,  in  general  estimation,  one  is  held 
much  more  strictly  accountable  for  violating  rules  of 
orthography,  orthoepy,  or  syntax  ;  perhaps  because 
such  mistakes  lie  on  the  surface  and  are  the  more 
easily  detected,  and  because  it  is  comparatively  easy 
to  avoid  the  sins  of  formal  language.  Man  may  and 
should  write  correctly  by  habit  and  reflex  action  ;  but 
none  but  the  inspired  artist  can  give  the  happy  stroke ; 
and  to  apply  the  rhetorical  test  requires  insight  and 
reflection.  Can  we  not  thus  account  for  the  excessive 
amount  of  time  given  to  the  study  of  formal  language 
as  compared  with  that  of  living  discourse  ?  We  wish 
to  be  forewarned  and  forearmed  against  violations  for 
which  the  merest  schoolboy  may  arrest  us.  Yes,  lan- 
guage ought  to  be  correct,  absolutely  so  ;  but  correct- 
ness is  not  the  last  word,  and  perhaps  not  the  best 
word,  which  can  be  said  about  language.  After  being 
searched  and  quickened  by  a  poem  of  Tennyson  or 
charmed  and  convinced  by  the  music  and  logic  of 
Phillips,  how  impertinent  to  suggest  that  some  long 
and  involved  sentence  slipped  in  its  syntax! 

Before  closing  up  the  boundary  of  our  subject-matter, 
we  must  note  that  rhetoric  is  not  the  only  discourse 
study,  —  that  composition  and  reading  fall  within  the 
same  compass,  using  reading  in  the  broad  sense  to 
include  the  study  of  literature.  Composition  is  the  art 
of  constructing  discourse  ;  and  reading  the  art  of  inter- 
preting it.  They  are  the  reverse  sides  of  the  discourse 
process.  Rhetoric  investigates  the  principles  which 
control  in  the  process  of  constructing  and  interpreting 


THE    ORGANIZING    PRINCIPLE.  7 

discourse.  Both  processes  are  controlled  by  the  same 
principles  :  in  one  case  the  principles  operate  in  the 
direction  of  purpose  or  effect,  through  thought  out  to 
language ;  in  the  other  back  from  language,  through 
thought,  to  the  purpose  or  effect  of  the  discourse,  —  the 
first  as  synthesis,  the  second  as  analysis.  Composi- 
tion and  reading  are  simply  applied  rhetoric  ;  and  both 
subjects  must  be  held  together  in  a  common  principle 
throughout  our  discussion.  Discourse  is  an  interesting 
and  profitable  topic  considered  as  mere  theory,  if  this 
be  possible  ;  but  its  practical  value  becomes  imperative 
when  we  consider  that  we  are  constantly  making  or 
interpreting  discourse, — talking,  writing,  or  speaking; 
or  listening  or  reading.  Especially  does  its  value 
appear  in  the  higher  processes  of  composing  and  of 
reading.  One  cannot  write  or  speak  with  assurance 
and  effect  without  a  consciousness  of  guiding  laws ; 
neither  can  he  read  with  appreciation  without  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  rhetorical  elements  constituting  literary 
discourse. 

Since  composing  and  reading  are  but  rhetoric  in 
practice,  there  is  but  one  discourse  study,  having  its 
two  phases  of  science  and  art,  or  theory  and  practice. 
Hence  rhetoric  is  not  excluded  from  any  part  of  the 
territory  of  discourse,  that  is,  language  in  its  adapta- 
tion to  the  purposes  of  utterance  ;  only  this  :  rhetoric 
cannot  practice  while  it  is  preaching,  although  it  must 
practice  what  it  is  preaching. 


8  the  science  of  discourse. 

The  Organic  Elements. 

In  getting  our  fingers  firmly  around  the  subject-mat- 
ter we  have  necessarily  felt  of  the  organic  elements. 
Discourse,  in  producing  an  effect  on  another  mind, 
uses  ideas  as  a  means,  and  language  as  a  medium. 
We  have  already  noticed  that  in  words  and  sentences 
as  such,  there  is  the  distinction  between  form  and 
meaning  ;  and  that  in  discourse  this  form  and  mean- 
ing are  not  consciously  separated,  but  move  together 
in  producing  the  effect.  If  words  may  be  defined  as 
language  forms  expressing  ideas,  and  sentences  as  lan- 
guage forms  expressing  thought,  then  a  discourse  may 
be  defined  as  a  language  form  expressing  thought  in  the 
process  of  producing  a  definite  change  in  some  mind 
addressed.  The  ideas  presented  are  the  direct  means 
to  the  end,  while  the  language  is  chiefly  means  to  the 
ideas,  and  therefore  indirect  means  to  the  purpose. 

Such,  then,  are  the  organic  elements.  Discourse  can- 
not exist  without  either,  nor  unless  they  cooperate  in 
a  definite  order.  In  writing  a  discourse,  the  author  is 
first  prompted  by  a  desire  to  put  another  mind  in  a 
certain  condition  ;  then  he  orders  his  thoughts  to  that 
end  ;  after  which  he  clothes  them  in  language.  This 
order  cannot  be  reversed.  Of  course  the  impulse  to 
produce  the  change  is  not  dropped  to  work  out  the 
matter  of  the  discourse  and  express  it  properly  ;  for 
all  of  this  workmanship  to  the  end  sought  must  be 
done  under  the  moving  and  shaping  force  of  the  desire 
to  reach  the  end.  In  fact,  in  the  stress  of  composition 
the  author  is  not  conscious   that    he    uses    language, 


THE    ORGANIZING    PRINCIPLE.  9 

being  wholly  occupied  and  moved  as  the  recipient  is  to 
be  occupied  and  moved.  This  explains  what  was  said 
at  the  outset  ;  namely,  that  a  language  form  has  its 
unity  in  the  fact  that  it  expresses  a  unity  of  conscious- 
ness. The  unity  of  consciousness  in  discourse  is  the 
moving  impulse  which  shapes  discourse  to  its  end. 
While  it  has  three  elements,  two  are  absorbed  in  the 
other,  —  in  a  consciousness  of  the  end  to  be  realized. 

In  reading,  the  language  element  comes  first,  and 
then  the  thought  appears  ;  after  which  the  effect  is 
produced.  Yet  they  do  not  occur '  this  way  in  an 
order  of  time  but  in  an  order  in  which  each  conditions 
the  other.  We  cannot  realize  the  thought  except  in 
and  while  perceiving  the  language,  and  no  effect  is 
produced  except  in  and  while  gaining  the  thought. 
So  far  as  time  is  concerned,  language,  thought,  and 
effect  move  abreast  as  organically  one.  Language  can- 
not be  received  before  the  thought,  as  its  perception 
consists  in  conceiving  the  thought  ;  and  the  thought 
cannot  precede  the  effect,  for  the  effect  is  in  receiving 
the  thought.  In  reading,  one  cannot  survey  the  lan- 
guage throughout,  and  then  go  back  and  review  the 
thought,  and  finally  receive  the  effect  which  the  dis- 
course is  to  stand  for. 

But  after  a  reader  has  realized  the  change  which  the 
thought  and  language  are  adapted  to  produce  in  him, 
then,  if  he  should  turn  to  make  a  critical  estimate  of 
the  discourse  he  surveys  it  in  the  order  of  its  composi- 
tion. In  coming  upon  a  strange  machine,  the  observer 
makes  such  a  survey  of  it  as  will  indicate  to  him 
its  purpose,  for  instance,  to  sew  with.     His  attention 


IO  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

now  rests  on  the  point  at  which  the  sewing  is  done, 
and  from  that  point  outward  he  reconstructs  the  ma- 
chine in  the  order  of  its  invention.  Thus  the  reader 
moves  inward  to  the  point  that  moved  the  writer,  and 
then,  if  he  make  a  critical  estimate  of  the  discourse, 
he  must  move  outward  with  the  author  in  the  process 
of  construction.  And  really  in  the  ordinary  process  of 
reading  for  what  the  discourse  contains,  and  not  for 
purpose  of  estimating  the  discourse,  — for  instance,  as 
a  child  would  read,  —  the  purpose,  the  motive,  in  the 
discourse  first  occupies  the  recipient.  The  child  feels 
first,  last,  and  all  the  time  the  life  in  what  he  reads  or 
hears  ;  he  does  not  know,  if  able  to  read  with  ease, 
that  language  is  involved  in  the  process.  He  lives  in 
an  immediate  consciousness  of  what  moved  the  writer 
to  utterance. 

Survey  the  matter  as.  we  please  and  we  are  driven 
at  last  to  put  down  as  the  established  order  in  the  dis- 
course movement,  the  purpose  or  motive,  the  matter, 
and  then  the  language.  At  least  this  is  the  only  order 
in  which  a  discussion  of  discourse  can  move  ;  no  esti- 
mate or  analysis  can  be  made  of  thought  and  language 
until  the  specific  aim  is  ascertained.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  separation  of  elements  and  the 
order  of  discussion  is  a  necessity  for  the  purpose  of 
discussion  only;  that  in  the  actual  discourse  itself  they 
move  together  as  a  unity  of  life,  thought  and  language 
being  gathered  up  and  fused  in  an  experience  in  the 
writer  to  be  reproduced  in  the  reader. 

The  organic  relation  of  the  elements  in  discourse 
appears  clearly  in  comparing  discourse  with  other  ob- 


THE    ORGANIZING    PRINCIPLE.  I  I 

jects.  Discourse  is  like  all  other  objects  in  expressing 
thought.  The  tree,  the  mountain,  the  sky,  the  rain- 
bow, all  say  something  to  us  when  we  look  upon  them. 

"  To  him  who  in  the  love  of  nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language." 

Likewise  with  the  forms  of  man's  creation  ;  the  bridge, 
the  engine,  the  statue,  the  cathedral  speak  a  language 
to  him  who  holds  communion  with  them. 

But  while  all  objects  express  thought,  all  do  not 
exist  for  that  purpose.  The  street  car  is  the  embodi- 
ment of  thought  and  must  express  it  ;  but  its  work  is 
to  carry  passengers.  A  house  manifests  the  thought 
of  the  builder ;  but  its  use  is  to  live  in. 

Some  objects,  however,  are  not  only  like  discourse 
in  expressing  thought  but  in  existing  for  that  very 
end.  The  Angelus  and  the  Statue  of  Liberty  exist 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  speaking  to  man.  The  ship 
expresses  thought  incidentally  ;  the  flag  that  floats 
over  it,  on  purpose.  Thus  discourse  falls  within  a 
large  number  of  things  having  for  their  purpose  the 
expression  of  thought ;  it  expresses  thought  to  com- 
municate it,  as  do  all  the  fine-art  forms,  architecture, 
sculpture,  painting,  and  music. 

But  discourse  is  cut  out  from  all  of  these  by  the 
peculiar  form  through  which  its  thought  is  expressed 
— language.  In  the  other  forms  of  expression  there  is 
some  natural  resemblance  or  symbolic  property  ;  but 
language  is  purely  arbitrary,  which  is  both  its  loss  and 
its  gain.     If  one  should  express  the  thought  of  a  house 


12  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

by  sculpture,  drawing,  or  painting,  the  resemblance  of 
these  forms  to  the  real  house  would  express  the 
thought,  without  previous  preparation  on  the  part  of 
the  observer.  But  if  the  word  house  should  be  pre- 
sented to  one  for  the  first  time  it  would  fail  to  com- 
municate the  idea  house ;  there  is  nothing  in  its  nature 
to  do  so.  Hence  we  say  that  it  is  an  arbitrary  symbol. 
Of  course  printed  language,  being  a  degenerate  form 
of  picture  writing,  did  in  that  form  naturally  express 
its  object ;  as  perhaps  did  spoken  language  at  one  time. 
They  no  doubt  lost  their  natural  character  and  assumed 
the  conventional  in  the  effort  of  man  to  express  his 
thought  more  effectively.  Thus  the  purpose  of  dis- 
course has  shaped  its  instrument  through  the  ages,  as 
it  immediately  shapes  it  in  each  particular  discourse. 

Discourse,  then,  connects  itself  with  every  other 
object  in  the  universe,  words  and  sentences  included, 
in  the  fact  of  expressing  thought,  or  having  meaning. 
It  lifts  itself  out  of  the  universe  of  objects,  with  the 
exception  of  a  small  group,  by  the  fact  of  existing  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  communicating  thought.  It  now 
separates  itself  from  the  small  group  by  communicating 
its  thought  through  the  arbitrary  symbol  of  language. 
C  Discourse  may,  therefore,  be  defined  as  the  expression  of 
\thought  in  language  for  the  purpose  of  communication. 
Thus  is  bounded  the  field  of  our  further  study,  with  a 
guiding  map  of  the  territory,  purpose  in  discourse ; 
thought  in  discourse ;   language  or  style  in  discourse. 

Thus  appears  the  organizing  principle  of  our  science  ; 
nam  el  v,  the  effective  expression  of  thought  in  language 
to  a  definite,  worthy  aim. 


THE   PURPOSE   IN   DISCOURSE. 

Efficient   Means  to  a  Worthy  End. 

Discourse,  like  any  other  instrument,  must  be 
studied  in  its  adaptation  to  the  end  sought  ;  and  is 
estimated  to  have  merit  in  proportion  to  its  efficiency 
as  a  means  to  a  worthy  end.  Hence  purpose  or  effect 
in  discourse  is  the  only  standard  by  which  it  can  be 
measured,  as  well  as  the  only  motive  by  which  it  can 
be  produced. 

Discourse,  being  a  means  to  an  end,  stands  between 
two  minds,  one  of  which  produces  the  discourse  while 
the  other  is  affected  by  it.  The  effect  of  the  discourse 
in  the  mind  of  the  reader  is  the  cause  of  the  discourse 
.in  the  mind  of  the  writer.  While  skating  produces 
pleasure,  pleasure  produces  skating  ;  that  is,  pleasure  in 
idea  produces  the  skating  which  brings  the  pleasure  in 
reality.  Pleasure  is  both  cause  and  effect  in  the  skat- 
ing. Exercise  causes  health,  but  health,  in  idea, 
causes  the  exercise.  Speed  in  locomotion  produces 
the  train,  and  the  train  produces  speed  in  locomotion. 
Thus  everything  man  produces,  as  an  engine,  a  palace, 
or  a  poem,  moves  in  a  circle  from  end  in  idea  to  end  as 
reality. 

Likewise  a  discourse  stands  between  the  effect  held 
in  idea  by  the  author  and  the  effect  produced  in  the 
reader  or  hearer.     When  one  calls  to  his  friend,  "  See 


14  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  rainbow  !  "  it  is  because  he  wishes  his  friend  to 
have  the  same  rainbow  delight  which  charms  himself. 
This  effect  held  in  mind  produces  the  discourse,  "  See 
the  rainbow";  and  this  discourse  realizes  the  delight 
in  the  one  addressed.  If  one  announce  that  the 
French  President  has  resigned,  it  is  because  he  desires 
the  idea  which  he  entertains  to  be  entertained  by 
others.  The  following  lines  stand  between  the  heart- 
break which  Tennyson  held  in  mind  and  the  heart- 
break which  he  desired  to  produce  in  the  reader  :  — 

"  And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  their  haven  under  the  hill  ; 
But  oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! " 

Thus  a  writer  or  a  speaker  idealizes  an  effect  desired 
in  another  mind, -and  under  this  guidance  and  impulse 
constructs  the  discourse  which  realizes  the  effect.  The 
reader  or  hearer  is  also  striving  to  make  real  the  same 
effect.  The  end  of  constructing  a  discourse  and  of  in- 
terpreting it  are  in  a  sense  the  same,  —  are  to  bring 
the  two  minds,  through  discourse,  into  the  same  idea, 
sentiment,  or  volition.  This  is  suggested  by  the  word 
interpretation,  whose  root  meaning  is  to  declare  be- 
tween. An  interpreter  stands  between  the  speaker 
and  the  hearer  and  aids  in  bringing  their  minds  into 
unity.  With  the  composer,  the  effort  is  to  bring  the 
interpreter  into  a  given  thought  ;  and  with  the  inter- 
preter the  effort  is  to  bring  himself  into  the  same 
thought.  Discourse  is  a  means  to  the  unity  of  two 
minds  in  the  same  thought  ;  which  common  thought  is 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 5 

the  purpose  of  the  discourse  both  to  the  author  and  to 
the  interpreter. 

Hence  discourse  has  it  purpose  to  the  reader  or 
auditor  as  well  as  to  the  writer  or  speaker.  It  would 
be  as  vain  to  read  as  to  write  without  a  purpose  ;  in 
either  case  the  discourse  is  used  for  a  purpose.  It  is 
possible  for  the  reader  to  use  a  discourse  for  another 
purpose  than  that  for  which  the  author  intended  it  ;  as 
an  instrument  designed  for  one  purpose  may  often  be 
serviceable  for  another.  In  fact  it  is  sometimes 
claimed  that  a  reader  cannot  know  the  purpose  of  an 
author  ;  but  the  reader  can  know  what  effect  a  given 
discourse  produces  on  himself,  and  to  him  this  effect 
is  the  purpose  of  the  discourse,  being  that  for  which 
he  uses  the  discourse.  We  attribute  as  purpose  to  the 
author  what  we  find  to  be  the  effect  of  the  discourse  in 
ourselves.  We  should  be  much  surprised  to  find  the 
practical  outcome  of  a  discourse  to  be  one  thing,  as 
tested  by  our  experience  in  reading  it,  and  to  learn 
from  the  testimony  of  the  author  that  he  had  intended 
something  entirely  different.  But  what  is  worse,  it  is 
claimed  that  in  the  case  of  a  poet  he  has  no  purpose  ; 
that  he  but  sings  as  the  linnet,  and  speaks  in  numbers 
because  the  numbers  come.  If  the  urgency  to  utter- 
ance is  so  strong  as  to  obliterate  consciousness  of  an 
objective  effect,  this  does  not  prove  that  the  composi- 
tion seeks  no  objective  end  ;  that  it  has  no  use  either 
to  the  author  or  the  interpreter.  And  if  in  such  cases 
the  spontaneous  outbreak  adapts  the.  discourse  without 
the  usual  course  of  patient  planning,  so  much  the 
more  credit  to  the  inspiration  of  purpose. 


l6  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  all  such  self-forgetful  frenzy  of  in- 
spiration is  quite  exceptional  ;  and  the  ordinary  writer 
must  still  set  up  a  definite  aim  to  be  realized,  and  use 
the  most  diligent  care  in  adapting  his  discourse  to  the 
end  set  up.  If  this  were  not  so  every  discourse  would 
be  a  chance  product,  lawless  and  irresponsible  ;  quite 
apart  from  our  ordinary  experience  of  sequence  in 
cause  and  effect  and  the  adjustment  of  means  to  end. 
When  it  is  claimed  that  there  is  no  science  of  literary 
discourse,  it  must  be  assumed  that  there  is  no  cer- 
tainty as  to  the  effect  produced  in  different  minds  ; 
and  no  necessary  connection  between  design  and  ac- 
complishment. In  such  uncertainty  the  speaker  be- 
fore an  audience  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  designing  to 
produce  an  inspiration  of  patriotism,  might  instead,  by 
chance,  arouse  base  passions  of  spoils  and  anarchy,  or 
the  delightful  experience  of  an  ocean  voyage.  The 
writer  of  a  great  poem  designing  to  exalt  religious 
faith  might  instead  produce  skepticism  and  despair,  or 
the  joy  of  moonlight  scenery.  Milton  wrote  "Paradise 
Lost,"  but  to  the  reader  it  might  happen  to  be  "  Para- 
dise Regained."  Now,  let  any  number  of  people  read 
the  "Psalm  of  Life,"  the  "Barefoot  Boy,"  "  Ivanhoe," 
or  the  "Nineteenth  Psalm,"  and  all  will  report  sub- 
stantially the  same  impression  ;  and  the  fuller  and  the 
more  accurate  the  comprehension  of  the  selection  the 
more  nearly  will  there  be  confessed  unity  of  effect,  and 
the  more  pronounced  the  conviction  that  the  author 
knew  what  he  was  about  in  the  writing. 

We  are  often  warned  of  the  danger  of  reading  into 
a  discourse  more  than  the  writer  put  into  it  ;  and  it  is 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 7 

possible,  and  sometimes  indulged  in,  to  strain  after 
hidden  meanings  and  subtle  analogies  quite  apart  from 
the  main  line  of  the  author's  movement  ;  yet  the  real 
danger  lies  in  not  reading  out  of  the  discourse  the  full 
meaning  of  the  author.  Some  say  that  Shakespeare 
did  not  intend  what  people  accredit  to  him  ;  but  if  so 
he  must  have  credit  still  for  a  wonderful  knack  of  sue:- 
gesting  to  other  people  what  he  himself  did  not  think 
of.  Admitting  for  the  exceptional  few  the  habit  of 
outdoing  Shakespeare,  Goethe,  Dante,  and  the  like, 
yet  most  need  fear  only  limping  behind  their  leader. 
In  any  case  the  reader  must  get  out  of  the  discourse 
all  there  is  in  it  for  him  ;  and  an  author  may  well  re- 
ceive full  credit,  be  it  for  good  luck  or  wise  design. 
If  the  reader  can  fairly  read  the  universe  out  of  the 
writing  it  is  only  fair  to  suppose  that  the  universe 
somehow  got  into  it  by  the  hand  of  the  writer.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  the  reading  world  will  continue  to 
class  certain  writings  as  masterpieces  on  the  basis  of 
the  breadth  and  depth  of  the  effect  produced  ;  and  the 
authors  of  such  writings  as  masters  because,  by  con- 
scious or  unconscious  wisdom,  they  planned  and  execu- 
ted them. 

The  highest  effect  is  not  always  desired,  and  dis- 
course is  good  if  it  reach  the  end  sought,  whether  it 
be  the  passing  information  of  conversation  or  the  most 
powerful  influence  in  the  field  of  thought,  art,  or  elo- 
quence. So  that  while  discourse  is  judged  in  effective- 
ness to  the  end  sought,  it  cannot  be  indifferent  to  the 
kind  of  end  sought.  In  the  first  place,  the  end  must 
be  a  worthy  one.     A  discourse  may  be  well  adapted 


1 8  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

to  produce  a  bad  effect,  which  considered  merely  in 
its  adaptation  to  the  end  desired  is  a  good  discourse, 
but  a  bad  one  when  taken  in  its  entirety.  A  boot- 
black can  excel  a  prime  minister  in  saying  some  things 
effectively,  but  might  fall  far  below  him  in  the  value 
of  the  thing  said  and  the  change  wrought  in  the  mind 
addressed.  To  merit  rhetorical  consideration  a  dis- 
course must  have  good  moral  character.  But  within 
this  scope,  the  value  of  the  effect  produced  is  the  abso- 
lute standard  of  rhetorical  criticism.  Compare  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  with,  "  It  snowed  yesterday, 
and  to-day  the  sleighing  is  good."  Both  are  well 
adapted  to  the  end  sought,  but  differ  infinitely  in  the 
effect  produced. 

Thus  effectiveness  may  be  considered  merely  as  a 
quality  of  the  means  used,  or  as  a  quality  of  the 
change  produced  in  the  mind  addressed.  It  is  possible 
to  approve  and  admire  the  finished  oration  and  at  the 
same  time  condemn  its  effect  on  the  audience.  In 
fact,  the  efficient  and  fascinating  means  may  be  the 
very  instruments  for  beguiling  unwary  auditors  into 
the  acceptance  of  vicious  theories  and  the  adoption  of 
an  evil  course  of  conduct.  The  demagogue  needs  to 
use  more  attractive  and,  in  a  sense,  more  effective 
means  than  does  a  statesman.  But  rhetorical  laws 
must  hold  discourse  responsible  for  more  than  mere 
efficiency  to  an  indifferent  or  evil  result.  The  effi- 
ciency of  a  discourse  is  measured  by  its  real  value  to 
the  mind  addressed.  If  the  tendency  is  evil,  the 
greater  the  effectiveness  the  worse  for  the  discourse. 
Hence  effectiveness    is    measured    both   by   the   qua) 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  19 

ity  and  the  quantity  of  the  change  produced  in  the 
mind  of  the  recipient.  At  least  rhetorical  skill  which 
conflicts  with  ethical  laws  is  to  be  reprobated  rather 
than  praised.  Vile  literature  deserves  no  considera- 
tion from  the  rhetorician,  further  than  a  public  scourg- 
ing from  an  outraged  moral  sense.  Discourse,  by 
efficient  means,  must  seriously  and  honestly  seek  a 
worthy  aim  —  must  seek  to  produce  a  change  in  the 
mind  addressed  for  the  good  of  that  mind.  Hence 
effectiveness,  announced  at  the  outset  as  the  ultimate 
law  of  discourse,  when  properly  limited  becomes  an 
efficiency  which  includes  the  end,  and  as  the  law  now 
stands  it  requires  that  discourse  be  an  efficient  means 
to  a  worthy  end.  It  is  not  only  a  question  of  saying 
the  thing  well,  but  whether  the  thing  said  is  worth 
saying  and  what  degree  of  worth  can  it  claim. 

Before  dismissing  this  topic  it  would  be  well  for  the 
student,  by  way  of  further  illustration  and  emphasis, 
to  compare  the  value  of  a  wide  variety  of  discourses 
from  the  recent  conversation  and  current  newspaper 
topic  to  the  sermon,  the  poem,  and  the  political  J 
oration. 

Conditions  of  Effectiveness. 

From  the  foregoing  the  prime  condition  of  effective- 
ness is  obvious  at  once  as,  — 

The  Author  or  the  Interpreter  Himself.  —  No  one 
can  write  beyond  himself,  —  produce  an  effect  deeper, 
truer,  and  more  potent  than  his  own  life.  The  com- 
pass and  power  of  a  writer  limit  absolutely  the  com- 


20  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

pass  and  power  of  the  writing.  To  prepare  to  speak 
and  write  with  influence  involves  the  whole  problem 
of  character  and  culture,  as  Ouintilian  well  under- 
stood in  relation  to  the  orator  ;  for  in  his  "  Institutes 
of  Oratory"  he  treats  comprehensively  the  whole  sub- 
ject of  education,  emphasizing  continually  that  the 
orator  is  first  a  wise  and  virtuous  man.  As  he  keeps 
the  man  back  of  the  orator,  so  must  the  man  be  kept 
back  of  effective  speech  of  whatever  purpose.  Wealth 
of  knowledge  and  conviction  of  duty  are  vastly  more 
essential  to  purposes  of  effective  utterance  than  are 
laws  of  syntax  and  rhetoric.  One  cannot  become  a 
journalist  by  studying  rules  of  editorial  style  and  journ- 
alism. This  can  be  accomplished  only  by  a  long  course 
of  training  to  alert  and  comprehensive  thought,  and 
to  the  power  of  a  quick  application  of  a  sound  political 
and  social  philosophy  to  everyday  life.  It  is  charac- 
ter, wisdom,  and  wealth  of  life,  and  not  homiletics, 
which  fit  for  pulpit  eloquence.  The  study  of  poetics 
cannot  supply  the  inspiration  and  inner  grasp  of 
things  necessary  to  poetic  construction.  Skill  in 
speaking  and  writing  come  riot  by  application  of 
rhetorical  devices,  but  by  a  full,  active,  and  versatile 
life.  The  metaphor  is  a  good  rhetorical  instrument, 
but  it  must  be  born  in  the  writing  and  not  made  and 
applied  to  it.  In  the  stress  of  composition  and  in 
the  exigency  of  the  moment  the  figure  springs  forth 
winged  for  its  flight  and  charged  with  its  message. 
Weighty  and  forcible  utterance  cannot  be  gotten  at 
from  the  outside,  but  spring  from  the  weight  and 
force    of    the   life  which    makes   the    utterance.     The 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  21 

whole  character  and  life  are  necessary  to  each  fit  word 
and  sentence ;  and  to  that  finer  rhetorical,  stamp  which 
gives  them  currency  as  universal  as  life.  Milton  said 
that  for  him  to  write  an  epic  poem  required  that  he 
make  his  life  an  epic  poem.  Not  out  of  rhetorical 
maxims  but  out  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh. 

The  student  must,  therefore,  not  come  to  the  task 
of  seeking  skill  in  discourse  with  any  hope  of  reaching 
it  by  specific  and  short-cut  methods  ;  but  by  that 
profound  and  universal  preparation  which  takes  care 
of  all  the  issues  of  life.  Often  the  young  man  with  a 
meagre  education,  but  with  ambition  for  a  literary 
career,  seeks  a  special  course  in  rhetoric  and  literature, 
expecting  to  be  shown  the  knack  of  successful  writing 
and  speaking  ;  just  as  the  illiterate  novice  in  elocution 
seeks  the  tricks  and  finishing  touches  for  pronounc- 
ing literary  masterpieces  by  attendance  on  a  school 
of  oratory  ;  or  as  a  barren  soul  vainly  hopes,  by  a 
knowledge  of  notes  and  practice  of  nimble  touches  on 
the  key-board,  to  compose  symphonies  and  conduct 
orchestras. 

What  is  really  needed  is  a  deep,  an  all-sided  culture. 
Mathematics,  science,  history,  and  the  wealth  of  the 
world's  literature  must  store  the  life  and  illumine  the 
soul  for  any  special  literary  task  which  the  writer  may 
undertake.  Rhetorical  study  has  its  special  function  ; 
but  that  excessive  faith  in  its  precepts  which  leads  to 
neglect  of  universal  culture  as  the  true  source  of 
rhetorical  power  will  defeat  the  true  aim  of  rhetoric 
itself.  Quintilian  says  that  Cicero  "  frequently  de- 
clares that  he  owed  less  to  the  schools  of  the  rhetori- 


22  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

cians  than  to  the  gardens  of  the  Academy."  Let 
the  pupil  but  consider  how  much  and  what  kind  of 
preparation  it  required  to  write  one  of  Swing's  or 
Beecher's  sermons,  Lincoln's  Gettysburg  Speech, 
Washington's  Farewell  Address,  Lowell's  "  Vision 
of  Sir  Launfal,"  or  Wordsworth's  "  Ode  on  the  Intima- 
tions of  Immortality."  Out  of  what  rhetoric  did  these 
come  ?  They  embody  the  culture  and  tension  of  the 
age,  rather  than  the  age's  rhetorical  maxims.  Yes, 
"  The  orator  is  the  good  man  skilled  in  speaking  ";  and 
skill  itself  is  the  man's  speaking.  In  further  descrip- 
tion of  the  orator  Ouintilian  speaks  of  him  as  "a  man 
who,  being  possessed  of  the  highest  natural  genius, 
stores  his  mind  thoroughly  with  the  most  valuable 
kinds  of  knowledge  ;  a  man  sent  by  the  gods  to  do 
honor  to  the  world,  and  such  as  no  preceding  age 
has  known  ;  a  man  in  every  way  eminent  and  excel- 
lent, a  thinker  of  the  best  thoughts  and  a  speaker  of 
the  best  words."  No  one  can  be  a  speaker  of  the 
best  words  who  is  not  a  thinker  of  the  best  thoughts. 

And  just  as  discourse  of  worthy  effect  can  spring 
only  from  a  soul  of  wealth  and  worth,  so  it  can  be 
adequately  interpreted  and  appreciated  by  the  same 
general  qualifications.  The  art  of  literary  criticism, 
i.e.  the  art  of  estimating  rather  than  fault-finding,  is 
not  the  application  of  specific  rules  to  a  production, 
but  the  reception  of  its  effect  into  the  life  of  the 
critic,  and  its  ideal  reproduction  from  the  standpoint 
and  basis  of  life  from  which  it  was  produced,  with  the 
added  experience  of  its  value.  The  problem  is,  how 
the  production  arises  out  of  and   returns  to  life,  and 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  23 

the  consequent  value  of  the  process.  Since  the  critic 
must  speak  to  the  value  of  the  selection  he  must  have 
the  refinement  and  compass  of  life  to  reexperience  the 
author's  life  embodied  in  the  selection.  The  small 
critic  can  do  no  better  than  to  attack  details  here  and 
there,  with  this  or  that  rhetorical  weapon  which  he 
has  learned  to  apply  under  the  name  of  criticism  ; 
but  such  is  not  the  process  of  that  discourse-inter- 
pretation which  brings  the  value  of  the  production 
home  to  the  reader.  Hence  it  is  evident  that  all  that 
has  been  said  touching  the  prime  condition  of  effect- 
ive discourse  applies  equally  to  the  author  and  to 
the  interpreter.  Of  course  there  is  a  difference  in  the 
capacity  required  for  the  details  of  execution  in  the 
two  cases  ;  but  the  fundamental  basis  of  operation 
in  life  is  the  same  in  each.  Discourse  cannot  be 
effective  without  the  adequate  reception  of  its  mes- 
sage, any  more  than  without  the  adequate  presentation 
of  that  message.  Effective  discourse  implies  some 
one  susceptible  to  the  effect.  The  writer  demands 
qualified  readers  as  strongly  as  the  reader  demands 
qualified  writers. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  general  require- 
ment of  culture  on  the  part  of  both  reader  and  writer 
makes  discourse  unnecessary,  by  rendering  the  writer 
unable  to  advance  the  interests  of  the  reader.  The 
help  comes  to  the  reader  through  the  writer's  ad- 
vanced position  in  the  particular  thought  and  sen- 
timent of  the  discourse  under  construction.  In  a 
particular  case,  the  writer  must  keep  in  advance  of 
his  reader.      He  may  have  to  raise  himself  to  the  full 


24  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

height  of  his  ability  to  do  so  ;  or  he  may  need,  as 
when  addressing  the  immature  in  thought,  to  lower 
himself  within  their  reach  ;  but  in  all  cases  he  must 
keep  in  advance  on  the  particular  line  of  his  investiga- 
tion, and  more  elevated  in  any  sentiment  he  would 
arouse.  In  fact  the  greater  the  inequality  between 
the  reader  and  the  writer  in  any  particular  selection  of 
discourse  the  better,  so  long  as  vain  or  wasteful  effort 
is  not  required  in  the  process  of  interpretation. 
There  has  grown  up  a  sentimental  prejudice  against 
difficult  books,  giving  preference  to  those  which  may 
be  perused  in  the  relaxed  mood  of  the  hammock. 
Real  reading  requires  energy  ;  and  the  best  books  are 
those  which  challenge  effort,  and  merit  frequent  and 
prolonged  study.  Yet  the  original  proposition  holds, 
that  man,  born  into  the  world  of  literature,  to  receive 
the  most  of  it,  needs  the  most  varied  and  thorough 
culture.  As  with  the  writer,  the  greater  the  reader's 
breadth  and  depth  of  culture  the  more  effective  does 
discourse  become. 

Coming  now  to  the  task  of  a  particular  composition, 
with  volume  and  force  of  life  in  general,  the  author 
must  be  moved  in  each  production  by 

A  Sincere  Purpose.  —  We  have  already  observed 
that  the  effect  in  the  mind  addressed  is  the  true 
cause  of  the  discourse  ;  and  sincerity  of  purpose  re- 
quires that  the  effect  to  be  produced  in  the  mind 
addressed  for  the  good  of  that  mind  be  the  sole 
impulse  to  the  utterance.  The  motive  must  be  un- 
alloyed   with    any   feeling    of    self  ;    as    when    one    is 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  25 

moved  to  speak  by  a  desire  to  appear  before  an 
audience,  to  display  learning  and  power  of  language, 
to  excel  another  speaker,  or  to  call  forth  popular 
applause.  The  assumption  is,  from  the  very  nature 
of  discourse,  that  the  purpose  is  the  effect  in  the 
mind  of  the  hearer,  for  the  benefit  of  the  hearer. 
The  moment  the  reader  or  hearer  feels  that  the  author 
is  making  the  discourse  with  reference  to  himself,  the 
discourse  at  once  loses  its  power. 

For  this  reason  the  pronoun  I  should  be  used 
warily  and  sparingly.  It  is  bad  taste  for  a  speaker 
to  play  a  part  in  illustrative  incidents  and  stories, 
when  his  own  personality  is  not  essential  to  the 
illustration.  He  should  not  state,  for  instance,  that 
he  while  visiting  Rome  found  the  Coliseum  in  such 
and  such  condition,  assuming  that  the  point  of  in- 
terest with  his  audience  is  not  the  condition  of  the 
Coliseum,  but  the  fact  that  the  speaker  has  traveled 
and  has  seen  Rome  and  the  Coliseum.  He  must  not 
thrust  himself  in  between  his  audience  and  the  object 
he  describes.  This  does  not  prevent  a  speaker  or 
writer  from  presenting  his  own  experience  when  that 
is  the  topic  called  for  ;  but  the  temptation  to  get  into 
the  foreground  of  the  discussion  must  be  silenced. 
It  is  a  safe  rule  for  the  composer  to  keep  himself  out 
of  the  discourse  altogether,  assuming  that  the  audience 
are  interested  only  in  the  topic  under  discussion  and 
not  in  him.  Should  he  himself  become  the  interesting 
topic,  as  when  a  famous  man  is  called  upon  to  give  an 
account  of  himself,  the  case  is  different  ;  for  then  he 
is  the  theme  of  the  discourse.      But  those  who  need  to 


26  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

guard  themselves  most  are  least  apt  to  be  called  upon 
for  self-explanation. 

Instead  of  uttering  the  thought  for  the  mind  ad- 
dressed, as  the  law  of  purpose  requires,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  the  language  and  the  thought  are 
frequently  deformed  into  affectation  of  style,  than 
which  nothing  is  more  offensive  to  good  taste  and 
to  good  morals.  "  Affectation  creates  caricatures  of 
beauty  ;  these  repel  taste  as  they  repel  good  sense. 
That  cast  of  character  which  leads  a  young  man  to 
wear  long  hair  and  to  part  it  in  the  middle  often 
appears  in  literature  in  a  straining  after  the  feminine 
qualities  of  style  when  no  beauty  of  thought  underlies 
and  demands  them.  This  nauseates  short-haired  men 
and  lends  reason  to  their  prejudice  against  the  genuine 
because  of  the  counterfeit  elegance."1 

A  natural  style  cannot  be  produced  without  an  ab- 
sorbing interest  in  the  aim  of  the  discourse.  Pretense 
will  unconsciously  leave  its  mark  in  some  undue  atten- 
tion to  the  details  of  style.  Phelps  quotes  the  follow- 
ing illustration  of  this  offense  from  a  speech  of  the 
elder  Josiah  Ouincy,  delivered  in  the  American  Con- 
gress to  secure  the  repeal  of  the  embargo  on  our  com- 
merce laid  by  Great  Britain  in  the  War  of   1812:  — 

An  embargo  liberty  was  never  cradled  in  Massachusetts. 
Our  liberty  was  not  so  much  a  mountain  as  a  sea  nymph.  She 
was  as  free  as  air.  She  could  swim  or  she  could  run.  The 
ocean  was  her  cradle.  Our  fathers  met  her  as  she  came  like  a 
goddess  of  beauty  from  the  waves.  They  caught  her  as  she  was 
sporting  on  the  beach.  They  courted  her  as  she  was  spreading 
her  nets  on  the  rocks. 

1  Phelps. 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2J 

Phelps  comments  on  the  above  thus  :  "  In  this 
strain  the  orator  proceeds.  Mark  now  the  quality  of 
this  style  as  related  to  the  professed  aim  of  the  whole 
speech.  What  was  that  aim  ?  The  ships  of  the  mer- 
chants of  Boston  and  Salem  and  Newburyport  and 
New  London  and  New  York  were  rotting  in  their 
harbors.  The  aim  of  the  legislation  advocated  by  Mr. 
Quincy  was  to  remove  the  embargo,  and  send  those 
ships  to  sea.  Was  his  mind  intent  on  that  in  the  pas- 
sage here  quoted  ?  Did  this  passage  assist  that  aim, 
or  could  it  naturally  do  so  ?  Not  at  all.  The  para- 
graph is  vivacious  ;  its  metaphors  are  novel  ;  its  diction 
is  compact  and  clear  ;  it  is  a  specimen  of  what  passed 
in  those  days  for  fine  oratory.  But  it  was  quite  too 
fine  for  the  sober  and  rather  rough  work  which  the 
orator  had  before  him.  His  interest  just  then,  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  mind  in  the  business,  was  expended 
on  the  embellishment  of  his  style.  He  was  thinking 
of  it  as  a  work  of  art.  He  was  speaking  to  Harvard 
College  and  its  environs,  not  to  the  Southern  Con- 
gressmen whom  it  was  his  business  to  win  over  to  the 
commercial  interest  of  New  England.  If  his  own  for- 
tunes had  been  embarked  in  one  of  these  rotting  ships, 
and  he  was  intent  with  his  whole  soul  on  saving  it  by 
a  vote  of  the  Congress,  he  would  have  found  some- 
thing to  say  more  to  the  purpose  than  courting  sea 
nymphs  on  the  rocks." 

The  practical  object  of  the  discourse  should  hold 
everything  in  control  from  beginning  to  end.  What 
is  known  as  natural  eloquence  arises  from  the  speaker's 
being  caught  up  by  the  inspiration,  the  power  of  an 


28  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

aim.  An  intense  aim  is  creative  ;  the  result  a  natural 
growth,  not  mechanical  contriving.  Thought  and  lan- 
guage grow  to  and  fit  the  striving  soul  within.  Hence, 
sincerity  is  the  secret  of  naturalness,  the  greatest 
charm  of  discourse. 

Thus  always  must  the  composer  be  controlled  by  the 
genuine  impulse  of  the  effect  to  be  produced.  The 
message  to  be  delivered  must  be  the  all-absorbing  con- 
sciousness in  the  delivery.  One  is  not  in  condition  to 
speak  or  write  till  he  has  an  idea  which  disturbs  him 
into  utterance.  The  urgency  of  the  idea  —  the  end,  the 
effect,  the  purpose  —  must  be  the  informing  power 
which  orders  and  organizes  every  element  of  thought, 
and  gives  harmony  and  color  to  every  feature  of  style. 
Every  discourse,  like  a  plant  or  an  animal,  is  the  prod- 
uct of  a  vital  force ;  and  it  cannot  take  the  form  of 
life  by  external  carpentry.  Composition  is  not  prima- 
rily a  putting  together ;  but  the  outgoing  of  a  unitary 
impulse  which  divides  itself  into  a  multiplicity  of  ideas, 
thoughts,  and  language  forms  in  the  process  of  reach- 
ing unity  again  in  the  mind  addressed.  It  begins  and 
ends  in  unity.  One  cannot  learn  to  compose  by  putting 
words  together  into  sentences,  and  sentences  together 
into  paragraphs,  and  paragraphs  together  into  discourse. 
The  impelling  idea  creates  and  determines  the  elements 
and  forms  needed  for  its  realization  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader  or  hearer. 

Hence  the  most  searching  standard  of  criticism  which 
can  be  applied  to  any  discourse  is  whether  it  is  pro- 
duced under  the  full  and  undivided  impulse  of  the  idea 
for  which  the  discourse  purports  to  stand.     For  instance, 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  20, 

al  other  standards  for  criticising  a  popular  lecturer  are 
rendered  useless  when  it  is  observed  that  he  is  conscious 
of  beautiful  similes,  superb  gestures,  of  the  fact  that  he 
is  the  lecturer  of  the  evening,  etc.  Then  nothing  is  to 
be  expected  of  him  but  a  performance,  which  is  always 
disposed  of  by  the  single  criticism  that  it  is  hollow  and 
purposeless.  Self-consciousness  in  some  form,  replac- 
ing the  consciousness  of  the  message,  is  a  general 
source  of  weakness  in  all  kinds  of  stage  performers. 

There  are  plenty  of  exceptions  to  this  ;  but  it  is  true 
to  such  an  extent  that  lecture  committees  often  avoid 
the  employment  of  professionals,  seeking  those  who  are 
earnestly  engaged  in  solving  life's  problems  and  in  elevat- 
ing humanity.  Efficient  service  comes,  not  from  those 
who  seem  to  think  it  a  nice  thing  to  speak  in  public 
from  the  stage  and  compose  pieces  for  that  purpose,  but 
from  those  who  are  earnest  seekers  after  living  truth, 
and  who  are  called  and  sent  to  the  platform  to  say  what 
needs  to  be  said  to  fallen  humanity.  It  is  not  strange 
that  revolutionary  and  antislavery  times  produced  or- 
ators. It  was  the  rugged,  earnest  business  in  hand 
that  made  Patrick  Henry  and  Wendell  Phillips  speak 
with  tongues  of  fire.  The  secret  of  Moody's  success 
lies  not  in  any  external  elocution — for  he  has  none  of 
it  —  but  in  his  simple,  direct,  and  earnest  effort  to  help 
his  brother  man.  It  is  said  that  after  Bishop  Simpson 
had  finished  a  sermon  in  Memorial  Hall,  London,  a 
professor  of  elocution  was  asked  by  a  friend  what  he 
thought  of  the  Bishop's  elocution.  "Elocution,"  he  re- 
plied, "that  man  doesn't  need  elocution;  he's  got  the 
Holy  Ghost." 


30  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

This  remark  of  the  elocutionist  suggests  the  applica- 
tion of  the  standard  of  genuine  motive  to  his  own  art. 
In  this  there  is  decidedly  too  much  reliance  on  ex- 
ternals;  and  not  enough,  we  may  say,  on  the  "Holy 
Ghost."  Usually  his  choice  selection  is  that  which 
enables  him  to  display  his  art ;  and  this  is  not  the  selec- 
tion which  of  itself  produces  the  deepest  and  truest 
effect,  but  one  which  requires  action,  gesticulation, 
grimaces,  contortions,  and  the  full  diapason  of  the  vocal 
cords.  For  this  purpose,  the  gravedigger's  scene  in 
Hamlet  is  much  to  be  preferred  to  Portia's  tribute  to 
mercy  ;  and  yet  the  latter  has  in  it  far  more  potency  for 
good  —  more  of  genuine  effect  on  the  hearer;  but  we 
are  most  frequently  favored  with  the  former,  because, 
perhaps,  the  reciter  can  best  impress  himself,  if  not  the 
greater  truth,  upon  the  audience.  The  selection  is  to 
display  his  art ;  not  his  art  the  selection.  And  such, 
again,  is  a  reversal  of  means  and  end  in  discourse ;  for 
what  was  presumably  written  to  be  a  means  to  an 
end  in  the  hearer,  is  used  as  a  means  to  an  end  in 
the  reciter.  The  true  elocutionist  understands  this, 
and  seeks  artistic  delivery  through  the  merit  and  inspi- 
ration of  what  he  delivers.  His  impelling  motive  is  to 
make  the  thought  and  spirit  of  the  selection  go  for  all 
they  are  worth,  not  for  his  sake,  but  for  their  own. 
The  musician's  art  is  tested  likewise. 

And  thus  it  is  in  all  fine-art  and  literary  criticism  ; 
the  first  standard  to  apply  is  that  of  a  genuine  motive 
in  the  production.  In  tracing  the  history  of  literature 
the  student  may  thus  part  off  productions  into  two 
great  classes,  differing  more  or  less  in  the  fundamental 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  3 1 

requirement  of  discourse.  Chaucer  will  be  found  to  be 
hearty,  genuine,  sincere,  —  "so  genuine  that  he  need  not 
ask  whether  he  were  genuine  or  no,  so  sincere  as  quite 
to  forget  his  own  sincerity."  Lowell  again  pays  Chaucer 
a  great  tribute  when  he  says,  "With  Chaucer  it  is  al- 
ways the  thing  itself  and  not  the  description  of  it  that 
is  the  main  object."  Passing  to  Spenser,  the  accom- 
plished gentleman  and  scholar,  a  peculiar  form  of 
insincerity  may  be  detected  in  his  "Faery  Queen." 
Spenser  at  heart  was  a  poet,  filled  with  fine  emotions 
and  beautiful  imagery ;  but  in  his  day  writings  that  did 
not  carry  on  their  face  a  distinct  moral  purpose  were 
supposed  to  be  idle  and  useless.  Spenser  yielded  to 
this  and  tried  to  expound  a  system  of  ethics  in  a  poem  ; 
whereas,  if  he  had  been  true  to  his  own  instincts  and 
impulses  his  Faery  Queen  would  have  had  living 
interest  to  the  general  reader,  and  not  merely  historic 
value  to  the  antiquary.  Pope  said  that  Shakespeare  did 
not  write  correctly  ;  and  avowed  his  own  purpose  to  be 
that  of  correct  writing.  He  thus  became  conscious 
of  his  style  and  not  his  message ;  while  Shakespeare 
searched  the  heart,  seemingly  unconscious  of  his  art  ; 
yet  in  the  mere  matter  of  style  he  far  excelled  all  the 
critical  school  which  followed  him,  and  which  made  style 
the  conscious  object  of  direct  concern.  Thus  in  all 
literary  study,  the  student  must  make  his  first,  most 
general,  and  most  fundamental  estimate  in  terms  of  the 
motive  creating  the  selection. 

A  Definite  Purpose.  —  It  has  already  been  incident- 
ally stated  that  a  composer  must  have,  besides  a  sincere 
and  worthy  aim,  a  definite  one.     He  must  set  before 


32  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

himself  just  what  he  is  to  accomplish,  and  then  keep 
the  eye  single  to  that  end.  And  so,  too,  must  the  recip- 
ient come  to  a  definite  experience  of  the  effect  pro- 
duced ;  not  be  satisfied  with  a  blurred  or  vague  general 
sense  of  what  the  discourse  means.  With  the  composer 
a  definite  and  firm  seizing  of  the  end  is  absolutely  essen- 
tial to  direct  and  forcible  movement  to  that  end  ;  and 
unless  the  interpreter  realize  definitely  and  firmly  what 
has  been  presented,  he  has  missed  so  far  the  object  of 
interpretation.  Preparatory  to  any  formal  exercise  the 
composer  must  test  himself  by  such  questions  as  : 
Just  what  end  do  I  wish  to  accomplish?  Exactly  what 
impression  do  I  wish  to  leave?  or,  Just  what  action  do  I 
wish  to  prompt?  When  a  high-school  pupil  makes  a 
choice  of  his  graduating  theme,  he  must  be  examined 
as  to  the  ground  of  his  choice.  Should  he  choose, 
"Every  Cloud  has  a  Silvery  Lining,"  or  "Over  the 
Alps  lies  Italy,"  he  may  find  that  he  has  been  caught 
by  something  that  sounds  well,  and  that  he  really  has 
no  definite  idea,  sentiment,  or  conviction  moving  him 
to  speech.  If  he  does  not  settle  this  important  matter 
at  the  outset  he  may  be  forced  to  learn  as  he  proceeds 
that  his  "silvery  lining"  is  only  a  thin  film  after  all; 
and  that  his  Italy,  which  lies  beyond  the  Alps,  is  sure 
enough  beyond  the  Alps,  but  what  of  that  ?  If  he  ex- 
pects to  awaken  only  the  bit  of  sentiment  of  "silvery 
lining"  and  "  over  the  Alps,"  he  can  do  no  better  than 
to  announce  his  title  on  the  program  and  retire.  Like- 
wise the  value  to  the  interpreter  must  be  tested  by 
an  effort  to  state  precisely  how  he  is  affected  by  the 
selection. 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  33 

The  composer  cannot  state  precisely  the  end  sought 
till  all  the  circumstances  under  which  the  effect  is  to  be 
produced  are  known.  Discourse  will  sometimes  have 
to  be  adapted  to  the  special  experience  of  trades,  pro- 
fessions, and  social  surroundings.  Farmers,  mechanics, 
merchants,  lawyers,  and  teachers  are  each  interested  in 
and  prepared  to  receive  a  special  class  of  ideas,  which 
would  make  no  appeal  to  others.  And  under  such 
limiting  conditions  the  composer  is  restricted  to  aims 
in  harmony  with  the  special  interests  of  the  class 
addressed. 

But  a  still  more  widely  controlling  factor  is  the  stage 
of  mental  development  to  be  addressed.  The  writer 
may  have  to  address  children  and  the  immature  in 
thought,  who  can  appreciate  only  the  pictures  of  ob- 
jects, and  these  only  when  expressed  in  the  simplest 
language  ;  or  he  may  have  to  address  those  who  can 
form  classes  of  things  and  desire  to  find  relations 
among  objects ;  or,  still  higher,  he  may  have  to  address 
those  who  are  able  to  search  for  the  unity  of  all  things, 
—  the  connection  of  things  into  a  universe.  That  is, 
he  may  have  to  form  popular  discourse,  scientific  dis- 
course, or  philosophic  discourse. 

The  composer  must  always  mark  the  grade  of  minds 
addressed,  and  adjust  himself  to  their  experience.  The 
farther  he  is  removed  from  the  grade  of  life  addressed, 
the  more  difficult  is  it  to  make  the  required  adaptation  ; 
and  this  is  impossible  when  he  has  to  adapt  to  those 
above  himself,  — the  composer  can  descend,  but  not  as- 
cend. But  adjusting  to  those  of  lower  capacity  is  not 
so  easily  done  as  would  appear.     The  difficulty  of  writ- 


34  THE    SCIENXE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ing  for  children  is  clearly  recognized ;  and  it  arises 
from  the  distance  to  which  the  writer  is  necessarily 
removed  from  the  experience  addressed.  As  a  rule,  a 
philosopher  cannot  address  a  popular  audience  effectively. 
To  do  so  he  must  be  a  pliable  and  skillful  rhetorician, 
which  means  that  he  has  the  art  of  adaptation. 

But  aside  from  the  variable  factors  which  limit  and 
define  the  end  according  to  circumstances,  there  is  an 
invariable  factor  to  be  counted  on  in  all  audiences  and 
under  all  circumstances,  and  which  determines  funda- 
mentally the  aim  and  adaptation  in  discourse.  This 
factor  is  the  different  powers  of  the  mind  to  be  affected 
— the  intellect,  the  sensibility,  and  the  will.  To  make 
any  definite  effect  on  the  mind  is  to  affect  prominently 
one  or  another  of  these  powers.  This  fact  defines  the 
end,  making  it  threefold  more  definite  than  the  mere 
idea  of  addressing  the  mind  ;  and  gives  rise  to  the  three 
great  classes  of  discourse,  Prose,  or  didactic  discourse  ; 
Oratory,  or  persuasive  discourse;  Poetry,  or  literary 
discourse. 

Prose,  or  didactic  discourse,  seeks  to  inform  the  in- 
tellect, —  to  communicate  to  it  knowledge  for  its  own 
sake.  This  process  involves  the  sensibility  and  the 
will,  as  the  mind  must  be  stimulated  by  desire  to  re- 
ceive the  truth,  and  the  will  must  make  effort  to 
appropriate  it ;  yet  the  end  is  the  knowledge  gained, 
and  the  other  activities  are  only  means  thereto.  Thus 
prose  discourse  is  discourse  adapted  to  the  logical  end 
of  truth.  It  seeks  to  bring  the  mind  into  a  knowledge 
of   the   objective  world   of  fact  ;  to  develop  a  knowl- 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  35 

edge  of  things  as  they  exist.  Whatever  the  form,  the 
discourse  is  didactic  when  it  is  adapted  to  inform  the 
intellect  as  an  end. 

Oratory,  or  persuasive  discourse,  seeks  some  end, 
through  action,  beyond  the  knowledge  and  feeling  by 
which  the  action  is  stimulated.  With  oratory  the 
object  is  not  to  bring  the  mind  into  conformity  with  the 
world,  but  to  stimulate  to  reaction  against  the  world,  — 
to  bring  the  world  into  conformity  to  some  idea  which 
the  mind  itself  sets  up.  While  prose  seeks  to  give  a 
knowledge  of  things  as  they  are,  oratory  strives,  through 
influencing  the  will,  to  make  things  what  they  ought  to 
be.  For  instance,  the  composer  may  seek  to  give  a 
knowledge  of  the  state  or  of  society  as  they  at  present 
exist ;  or  he  may  strive  to  give  such  knowledge  and 
arouse  such  sentiments  as  will  prompt  to  effort  to  make 
them  what  they  should  be.  A  writer  may  desire  to 
give  a  knowledge  of  slavery  for  the  sake  of  the  knowl- 
edge ;  or  he  may,  through  such  knowledge,  prompt  to 
action  against  some  form  of  oppression,  as  was  once 
done  against  slavery.  Railroads  as  they  are,  are  not 
what  they  should  be;  and  feeling  the  desirability  of 
making  them  so,  one  may  speak  to  prompt  action  to 
that  end.      In  so  doing,  he  would  form  an  oration. 

An  oration  is  based  in  the  emotions,  for  these  are 
the  motives  to  action.  No  appeal  can  be  made  to  the 
will  directly.  People  will  not  choose  to  act  by  simply 
being  asked  to  do  so.  The  proper  motives  to  action 
must  be  aroused,  through  the  presentation  of  thought 
to  the  intellect.  Hence,  while  it  was  stated  that  dis- 
course  affects   the   intellect,    the    sensibility,    and   the 


36  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

will,  the  direct  effect  is  confined  to  the  intellect 
and  the  sensibility ;  the  sensibility  being  addressed 
as  means  to  some  end  reached  through  action,  or 
for  its  own  sake. 

Poetry,  or  literary  discourse,  awakens  emotions  for 
their  own  sake,  and  not  to  serve  as  motives  to  action. 
One  may  contemplate  a  waterfall  or  a  landscape  and 
find  his  reward  in  the  contemplation.  Hearing  the 
song  of  a  bird  or  viewing  a  gorgeous  sunset,  is  justified 
by  the  emotions  awakened.  In  all  such  cases  the  mind 
feels  that  the  object  is  what  it  ought  to  be  —  that  it  is 
perfect.  Poetry  presents  the  object  as  if  there  were  no 
collision  between  its  ideal  and  its  real  nature.  Such  a 
view  of  an  object  awakens  the  esthetic  emotions,  rather 
than  those  emotions  which  prompt  to  effort,  such  as 
the  feelings  of  injustice  and  oppression  wielded  by  Pat- 
rick Henry  to  arouse  the  colonists  to  resist  the  mother 
country. 

Let  it  be  emphasized  that  the  distinction  here  drawn 
between  the  kinds  of  discourse  is  that  of  adaptation  to 
an  end  and  not  that  of  form.  Popularly  speaking,  an 
oration  is  something  spoken,  and  poetry  is  that  which 
is  written  in  verse.  But  an  oration  is  still  an  oration 
when  printed,  and  a  poem  is  still  a  poem  when  changed 
to  the  prose  form,  as  often  happens  in  the  process  of 
translation.  A  poem  delivered  orally  does  not  become 
an  oration  ;  and  an  argument  for  states'  rights  put  in 
verse  is  at  best  only  doggerel  poetry.  Note  the  fol- 
lowing stanzas,  from  a  so-called  poem  on  the  discovery 
of  America,  "designed  to  convey  instruction  to  the 
young  " :  — 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  37 

"  Till  near  the  sixteenth  century, 
To  Europe  was  unknown 
This  great  land  of  America, 
So  populous  since  grown. 


The  people  then  believed  the  world 

To  be  so  very  small 
That  Europe,  Asia,  Africa 

Were  with  some  islands  all." 

While  this  is  written  in  verse,  it  cannot  be  called 
poetry  in  any  fundamental  sense,  but  readily  falls  under 
prose,  because  it  is  an  effort  to  teach  facts  touching 
the  discovery  of  America.  In  all  cases  the  form  is 
incidental  to  the  spirit.  By  the  spiritual  standard  Irv- 
ing's  "  Sketch  Book  "  is  a  collection  of  poems  ;  and  this 
view  is  justified  by  the  dictionary  and  the  encyclopae- 
dia ;  while  Whittier's  war  poems,  designed  to  arouse  the 
people  against  slavery,  are  oratorical,  because  they  seek 
to  change  the  existing  order  of  things.  Shakespeare 
and  the  Psalmist  are  poets  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they 
did  not  write  in  verse.  When  it  is  said  that  an  expres- 
sion is  poetic,  the  soul  of  the  expression  is  hinted  at, 
and  not  its  form.  It  is  true  that  the  highest  tension 
of  feeling  naturally  seeks  rhythmical  expression  ;  yet 
all  good  prose  is  more  or  less  rhythmical ;  every  oration 
should  be  musical.  Undoubtedly  discourse  may  be 
classified  on  the  basis  of  form  into  prose  and  poetry, 
and  this  will  be  done  at  the  proper  place  —  in  discuss- 
ing the  language  of  discourse  ;  but  here  we  are  con- 
cerned with  discourse  in  its  entire  spirit  and  compass. 
Every  one  is  conscious  of   using  language  to  each  of 


38  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  three  ends  above  described.  And  these  ends  are 
fundamental,  controlling,  as  we  shall  see,  the  organiza- 
tion of  both  the  thought  and  the  style  of  discourse. 

These  kinds  of  discourse  shade  imperceptibly  into 
each  other ;  and  frequently  a  discourse  defies  exact 
classification.  But  this  should  not  discourage  us,  for 
such  is  true  everywhere.  The  dividing  line  between 
plants  and  animals  has  never  been  found  ;  yet  we  rec- 
ognize the  working  value  of  such  a  distinction.  Every- 
where in  the  world  of  thought  things  blend  and  flow  ; 
and  we  must  not  hope  to  draw  lines  of  thought  more 
sharply  than  they  are  found  in  things.  It  matters  not 
that  we  are  baffled  in  classifying  a  given  piece  of  dis- 
course ;  for  this  fact  shows  the  nature  of  the  discourse, 
and  this  is  what  is  really  sought.  Classification  is  not 
an  end,  but  a  means.  If  it  be  found  that  a  discourse 
is  equally  well  adapted  to  each  of  the  three  ends,  let  it 
be  so  ;  for  this  is  its  unique  and  fundamental  fact,  — 
the  fact  that  regulates  all  further  procedure  in  its 
study.  Such  a  discovery  might  be  a  criticism  on  the 
discourse,  but  not  a  reflection  on  the  critic.  As  a  rule, 
however,  the  classification  is  readily  made,  for  the 
types  of  each  class  are  distinct  and  numerous.  Classify, 
on  the  basis  of  purpose,  the  following  :  — 

"  The  founder  of  rhetoric  as  an  art  was  Corax  of  Syracuse 
(c.  466  15. c).  In  466  Thrasybulus,  the  despot  of  Syracuse,  was 
overthrown,  and  a  democracy  was  established.  One  of  the  im- 
mediate consequences  was  a  mass  of  litigation  on  claims  to  prop- 
erty, urged  by  democratic  exiles  who  had  been  dispossessed  by 
Thrasybulus,  Hiero,  or  Gelo.  If,  twenty  years  after  the  Crom- 
wellian  settlement  of  Ireland,  an  opportunity  had  been  afforded 
to  aggrieved   persons  for  contesting  every  possession  taken  under 


THE    PURPOSE    IN    DISCOURSE.  39 

that  settlement  in  the  ten  counties,  such  persons  being  required 
to  plead  by  their  own  mouths,  the  demand  for  an  "  art "  of  forensic 
rhetoric  in  Ireland  would  have  been  similar  to  that  which  existed 
in  Sicily  at  the  moment  when  Corax  appeared.  If  we  would  un- 
derstand the  history  of  Greek  rhetoric  before  Aristotle,  we  must 
always  remember  these  circumstances  of  its  origin.  The  new 
"art"  was  primarily  intended  to  help  the  plain  citizen  who  had  to 
speak  before  a  court  of  law." 

"It  is  estimated  that  from  seventy-five  to  a  hundred  thousand 
wives  and  children  of  these  soldiers  are  now  held  in  slavery.  It 
is  a  burning  shame  to  this  country.  .  .  .  Wasting  diseases,  weary 
marches,  and  bloody  battles  are  now  decimating  our  armies. 
The  country  needs  soldiers,  must  have  soldiers.  Let  the  Senate, 
then,  act  now.  Let  us  hasten  the  enactment  of  this  beneficent 
measure,  inspired  by  patriotism  and  hallowed  by  justice  and  hu- 
manity, so  that,  ere  merry  Christmas  shall  come,  the  intelligence 
shall  be  flashed  over  the  land  to  cheer  the  hearts  of  the  nation's 
defenders  and  arouse  the  manhood  of  the  bondman,  that,  on  the 
forehead  of  the  soldier's  wife  and  the  soldier's  child  no  man  can 
write  '  Slave.'  " 

"  Oh,  there  is  an  enduring  tenderness  in  the  love  of  a  mother  to  her 
son  that  transcends  all  other  affections  of  the  heart.  It  is  neither 
to  be  chilled  by  selfishness,  nor  daunted  by  danger,  nor  weakened 
by  worthlessness,  nor  stifled  by  ingratitude.  She  will  sacrifice 
every  comfort  to  his  convenience  ;  she  will  surrender  every  pleas- 
ure to  his  enjoyment  ;  she  will  glory  in  his  fame,  and  exult  in  his 
prosperity  ;  and  if  misfortune  overtake  him,  he  will  be  the  dearer 
to  her  from  misfortune  ;  and  if  disgrace  settle  upon  his  name,  she 
will  still  love  and  cherish  him  in  spite  of  his  disgrace  ;  and  if  all 
the  world  beside  cast  him  off,  she  will  be  all  the  world  to  him." 

Which  of  the  foregoing  confronts  an  actual  with  an 
ideal  condition  of  things,  for  the  purpose  of  changing 
the  ideal  into  the  actual  ?  Which  presents  simply  an 
ideal   for  the  mere   sake  of  the  joy  awakened   by  con- 


4-0  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

templating  the  ideal  ?  Which  presents  a  fact  for 
its  merely  intellectual  value  ?  Which  of  the  fore- 
going confines  the  attention  to  one  aspect  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  which  to  two  aspects  ?  In  what  respect 
are  all  of  these  alike,  and  in  what  respect  is  each 
peculiar  ?  Select  many  other  examples,  and  classify 
them  by  applying  the  foregoing  questions.  And  for 
further  emphasis  select  some  piece  of  land  and  pre- 
sent it,  first,  to  give  a  clear  notion  of  it  ;  second,  to 
persuade  some  one  to  buy  it  or  to  improve  it  ;  third, 
to  awaken  the  feeling  of  beauty.  To  each  of  the  three 
ends,  how  should  a  steam-engine  be  presented  ?  forest 
trees  ?  charity?  the  school  ?  the  solar  system  ?  rhetoric? 


THE  THOUGHT  IN   DISCOURSE. 

The  Theme. 

To  whatever  end  discourse  is  adapted,  thought  is 
presented  as  the  means,  through  language  as  the 
medium.  Hence,  we  are  here  concerned,  not  with  the 
nature  of  thought,  but  with  its  adaptation  to  the  ends 
of  utterance, — with  thought  in  the  process  of  affecting 
the  mind  addressed.  The  same  subject-matter  may  be 
used  for  different  purposes,  but  in  each  case  it  must  be 
differently  organized.  In  logic  thought  is  considered 
in  its  own  nature,  and  organized  about  some  center 
of  its  own  ;  while  in  discourse  thought  must  be  or- 
ganized to  the  requirements  of  the  end  sought,  and  in 
obedience  to  the  conditions  under  which  it  is  sought. 
The  history  of  Greece  might  be  so  compacted  and 
organized  as  to  satisfy  the  sternest  laws  of  logic  ;  but 
such  an  organization  would  not  serve  to  instruct  im- 
mature minds,  nor  to  produce  emotional  or  volitional 
effects.  The  nature  of  the  theme  determines  the  logi- 
cal organization;  the  particular  end  sought,  and  the 
conditions  under  which  it  is  sought,  the  rhetorical 
organization.  The  latter  may  be  identical  with  the 
former,  —  in  fact,  for  some  purposes  it  must  be  so  ; 
but  in  most  cases  a  modification  is  made  by  the  laws 
imposed  from  without. 


42  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Therefore,  thought  in  discourse  is  studied  in  the 
process  of  producing  an  effect  on  some  mind  addressed, 
and  its  organization  varies  in  obedience  to  the  differ- 
ent effects  to  be  produced,  and  the  circumstances 
and  conditions  under  which  the  effect  is  to  be  pro- 
duced. To  give  instruction,  the  battle  of  Gettysburg 
should  be  organized  in  one  way  ;  to  arouse  poetic 
emotions,  it  must  be  organized  differently,  and  still 
differently  to  move  the  will.  And  each  of  these 
must  be  changed  in  a  marked  degree  in  adapting  from 
a  lower  to  a  higher  phase  of  mental  development.  A 
still  further  modification  is  required  when  the  end  is 
sought  under  the  limitations  of  some  particular  time, 
or  place,  or  .peculiar  circumstances,  or  to  minds  of 
special  experience.  An  address  to  citizens  would  not 
be  adapted  to  the  soldiers  who  were  engaged  in  the 
battle,  and  what  would  be  suitable  for  the  Southern 
soldier  would  not  be  suitable  for  the  Northern  soldier. 
The  poet  and  the  astronomer  do  not  present  the  same 
facts  about  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars.  A  didactic 
discourse  on  religion  or  ethics  requires  the  selection  of 
quite  different  phases  and  elements  from  that  required 
in  arousing  people  to  religious  and  ethical  conduct. 
The  poet  dare  not  give  the  mathematical  position, 
form,  and  size  of  a  landscape,  but  the  surveyor  must 
do  so.  To  use  the  rainbow  as  a  subject  of  instruction 
would  require  its  analysis  into  the  laws  of  light,  but  to 
awaken  esthetic  feelings  the  attention  must  be  directed 
to  other  aspects,  and  if  it  is  used  to  guide  conduct  in 
some  specific  way,  still  other  views  must  be  taken. 
Lowell,  in  saying  of  the  dandelion  :  — 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  43 

"  Dear  common  flower  that  grow'st  beside  the  way, 
Fringing  the  dusty  road  with  harmless  gold," 

does  not  select  the  same  points  that  are  given  in  the 
botany.  The  instructor  in  zoology  would  not  say  of 
the  bird  singing  that  he 

..."  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 
With  the  deluge  of  summer  he  receives." 

Thus  always  the  subject  considered  must  be  plastic 
to  the  purpose.  Thought  in  discourse  is  peculiar  in 
being  considered,  not  in  itself,  as  in  logic,  but  as  a 
means  to  an  end,  and  is,  therefore,  organized,  not  only 
by  its  own  laws,  but  also  by  the  laws  of  the  mind  in 
which  the  effect  is  to  be  produced.  From  the  side  of 
mind  we  have  already  deduced  the  fundamental  law  of 
discourse  as  that  of  Purpose,  and  we  are  now  brought 
to  the  highest  law  from  the  side  of  thought  ;  namely, 
that  of  Unity  of  process  to  the  end  sought.  If  instruc- 
tion is  to  be  given,  the  ideas  must  cooperate  to  that 
end  ;  if  the  will  is  to  be  moved,  all  the  feelings  aroused 
must  prompt  in  that  direction  ;  if  the  esthetic  feelings 
are  to  be  stimulated,  there  must  be  no  discordant  note. 
The  thought  must  have  unity  in  moving  the  mind  to 
the  end  sought.  Such  is  the  supreme  requirement 
which  the  purpose  makes  upon  the  thought. 

This  thought  unity  is  called  the  Theme  of  discourse. 
In  every  discourse  there  must  be  one  idea  which  sums 
up  the  whole,  and  within  which  all  the  parts  are  organ- 
ized. Whether  a  discourse  is  a  single  sentence,  a  para- 
graph, or  an  entire  book,  there  must  be  one  all-inclusive 


44  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

thought.  The  Declaration  of  Independence  is  a  com- 
plex document,  but  it  is  designed  to  express  a  single 
truth,  —  the  right  of  the  American  Colonies  to  free- 
dom. Many  things  are  said  in  "  Little  Lord  Faunt- 
leroy,"  but  they  are  all  included  in  the  idea  that  kind- 
ness begets  kindness.  All  the  diversity  of  imagery 
and  sentiment  in  the  "Vision  of  Sir  Launfal "  have 
their  unity  in  the  feeling  of  true  charity.  No  matter 
how  elaborate  the  exposition,  if  it  have  organic  unity, 
it  must  revolve  about,  or  within,  a  single  idea.  Hence 
the  theme  is  the  total  significance  of  the  discourse. 

After  purpose,  a  clear  conception  of  the  theme  is 
the  first  requirement  of  the  composer  or  the  inter- 
preter. Reading  or  hearing  a  discourse  is  largely  the 
art  of  grasping  into  unity  the  various  elements  and 
phases  of  thought  as  they  are  presented  ;  as  the  art 
of  composition  consists  chiefly  in  giving  wealth  and 
diversity  of  life  to  some  theme  constantly  kept  in 
unity.  Hence  the  very  great  value,  in  reading  and 
literary  work,  of  being  required  to  state  the  one  idea 
for  which  the  given  discourse  stands.  For  practical 
purposes  discourse  has  been  quite  thoroughly  read 
when  the  reader  can  state  its  theme  ;  not  its  title, 
for  this  is  quite  generally  not  its  theme,  and  per- 
haps always  too  indefinite  to  answer  the  requirement 
of  interpretation.  The  required  definiteness  will  be 
given  to  the  theme  by  stating  it  in  the  form  of  a 
proposition, — by  answering  the  question,  What  one 
thing  can  be  affirmed  by  the  reading  of  this  selection  ? 
Or,  if  a  composer,  What  one  thing  do  I  wish  to  affirm 
vby  writing  on  this  theme  ? 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  45 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  composer  and  the  in- 
terpreter move  in  reverse  order  in  relation  to  the 
elements  of  the  theme.  The  interpreter  seizes  the 
elements  and  features  first,  and  progressively  unifies 
them  into  the  theme.  The  composer  first  grasps  the 
theme,  and  then  proceeds  to  analyze  it  into  its 
elements,  after  which  the  elements  are  given  the 
organic  unity  of  the  whole.  The  critic  will  take  one 
step  beyond  the  ordinary  reader  ;  for,  after  ascertain- 
ing the  theme  from  the  elements,  he  will  reconstruct 
the  discourse  from  the  standpoint  of  the  author  — 
from  the  theme  to  its  elements.  But  the  first,  and  for 
^general  purposes  the  last,  movement  in  reading  is  the 
construction  of  the  theme  out  of  the  elements  pre- 
sented. Hence,  to  interpret  with  efficiency  one  must 
keep  the  imagination  and  the  judgment  intently 
active  relating  into  one  idea  all  the  others.  The 
difference  between  readers  is  great  ;  and  it  lies 
chiefly  in  the  power  of  organizing  details  into  unity. 
One  tries  to  hold  everything,  and  remembers  nothing  ; 
while  another  organizes  the  elements  into  unity  as  he 
proceeds,  and  reaches  with  certainty  the  one  thought 
which  holds  for  him  all  the  others. 

As  no  habit  of  reading  is  so  valuable  as  that  of 
resting  the  attention  on  the  main  issue  as  it  unfolds 
itself  in  the  process  of  interpretation,  so  nothing 
steadies  the  nerve  of  the  writer  through  the  compli- 
cated details  of  his  subject-matter  like  a  firm  grip  on 
the  organic  unity  of  his  theme.  After  the  inspiration 
of  a  worthy  purpose,  a  firm  grasp  of  the  theme  is  next 
of  prime  importance.     In  fact  there  is  little  distinction 


46  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

between  them  ;  for  seizing  a  theme  firmly  and  vividly 
is  itself  an  inspiration  to  utterance.  One  cannot 
wield  a  subject  till  it  becomes  a  part  of  his  life, 
and  is  reenforced  by  his  whole  life.  At  this  point 
the  subject  is  transmuted  into  motive  to  utterance. 
Therefore  when  a  composer  chooses  a  theme  by  which 
to  accomplish  a  certain  end,  his  first  concern  is  to 
so  bring  the  theme  into  his  life  that  it  becomes 
the  impelling  force  in  speech.  No  merely  external 
posting  tip  on  a  subject  will  meet  the  requirement  ; 
the  speaker  or  writer  must  be  able  to  give  original  con- 
struction to  the  theme  by  the  initiative  force  of  his 
own  life.  Unless  the  theme  be  thoroughly  possessed 
it  cannot  be  wielded  with  precision  and  force  to  the 
end  proposed  ;  it  cannot  be  adapted  and  given  organic 
unity  under  a  dominant  purpose.  One  staggering 
under  the  weight  of  his  theme  cannot  move  nimbly 
to  varying  ends,  nor  adjust  the  matter  delicately  to 
varying  conditions.  The  theme  will  burden  him, 
and  constrain  him  to  the  same  movement  under  all 
circumstances.  Thus  burdened  he  cannot  move  with 
that  masterly  progress  through  the  subject,  and  with 
that  harmony  and  proportion  of  treatment  which  gives 
symmetry  and  organic  beauty  to  the  whole. 

Here  again  it  appears  that  the  primary  condition  of 
effective  speech  is  the  man  himself  ;  for  the  theme  on 
which  he  discourses  must  have  been  fully  assimilated 
to  his  own  life  --must  be  his  life.  Unity  in  discourse 
cannot  be  secured  by  patching  things  together  in  a 
mechanical  and  external  way  ;  it  must  arise  from  a 
unitary  life  impulse  which  orders  and  organizes  every- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  47 

thing  to  a  supreme  end.  This  principle  is  well 
illustrated  in  the  practice  of  writing  books.  For  in- 
stance, one  decides  to  write  a  grammar,  and  not 
having  mastered  language  by  an  intimate  experience 
with  it  through  its  prolonged  use  and  study,  places 
before  him  the  grammars  already  written  ;  and  by  a 
careful  reading  and  comparison  rewords  the  matter  in 
new  phrases  and  outlines.  This  is  the  best  he  can 
do,  if  his  wealth  of  experience  with  the  language 
itself  does  not  move  him  to  construct  from  an  inward 
resource.  In  one  case  there  is  mechanism  ;  in  the 
other,  organic  life.  One  may  easily  write  a  history  of 
the  United  States  by  averaging  and  paraphrasing  many 
texts  on  that  subject  ;  but  to  produce  a  living  history 
the  United  States  must  have  so  found  its  way  into  the 
writer  that  he  can  construct  originally.  None  but  an 
original  work  can  be  well  written,  —  not  one  that  an- 
nounces truth  before  undiscovered,  for  in  this  sense 
originality  is  a  vain  striving  ;  but  one  written  by  the 
self-assertive  thought  of  the  writer,  —  one  actively  and 
not  passively  determined.  Everything  is  original  to 
the  man  who  makes  it  his  own,  —  to  the  one  who  can 
originate  it  and  reproduce  it.  Originality  in  this  sense 
conditions  all  effective  writing.  When  the  theme  so 
takes  possession  of  the  writer  as  to  speak  through 
him  as  its  mouthpiece  something  will  be  said  clearly 
and  forcibly  to  the  purpose. 

This  firm  holding  of  the  theme  by  the  composer 
requires  first  that  the  theme  be  definitely  bounded. 
To  this  end  it  should  be  stated  in  as  many  definite 
ways  as  possible,  and  the  boundary  lines  between  it 


48  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

and  all  adjacent  territory  of  thought  should  be  pre- 
cisely run  by  means  of  comparison  and  contrast.  The 
"  fingers  of  the  mind  "  must  be  placed  well  and  firmly 
around  it,  as  a  condition  to  wielding  it  to  any  definite 
end.  After  the  theme  as  a  whole  has  been  grasped  it 
must  be  inwardly  explored  and  all  its  phases,  and  its 
elements  selected  out  and  organized  into  the  theme  as 
a  whole.  Whatever  wealth  of  life  there  is  in  the 
theme  must  be  taken  possession  of  by  the  composer. 
The  law  of  unity  implies  variety  ;  there  can  be  no 
unity  without  difference,  and  the  greater  the  variety 
the  richer  the  unity,  so  long  as  unity  is  main- 
tained. The  more  complex  any  work  of  man,  so  long 
as  the  complexity  is  in  obvious  unity,  the  greater  the 
power  of  art  displayed.  One  of  the  greatest  feats  of 
composition  is  shown  by  Shakespeare's  dramas,  which 
display  great  profusion  of  life  in  unity.  Many  scenes 
move  abreast  without  confusion,  and  in  a  way  to 
sweep  the  diapason  of  human  life.  A  great  volume 
of  life  is  gradually  wrought  up  to  the  most  intense 
climax,  and  then  as  gradually  relieved  in  the  peace 
and  joy  that  follow  the  storm  cloud.  The  chief  labor 
of  the  composer  is  to  give  distinct  feature  and 
wealth  of  variety  to  the  object  of  his  discussion. 
The  greater  the  diversity  held  in  unity  in  an  organism 
the  higher  the  life  of  that  organism.  The  egg  passes 
into  the  diversity  of  the  chick,  and  thus  assumes 
greater  unity  and  life  force  ;  and  so  must  a  theme, 
by  the  mind's  brooding  on  it,  grow  into  diversity  and 
higher  unity,  and  thus  become  a  living  and  active 
force  in  the  world  of   speech.      Every   composer  will 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  49 

recall  the  fact  that  the  greatest  stress  under  which  he 
labors  is  that  of  giving  organic  life  to  his  subject  ; 
and  the  striking  weakness  of  compositions  such  as 
those  prepared  for  high-school  graduating  exercises,  is 
the  lack  of  varied  and  conspicuous  features  given  to 
the  theme  treated.  Bare  mathematical  unity  may  be 
maintained;  it  may  be  a  unit  without  variety, — a 
globe  without  air,  land,  or  water,  without  valley, 
plateau,  or  mountain,  without  lake,  river,  or  water- 
fall, —  a  monotonous  surface,  without  height  or  depth, 
day  or  night,  winter  or  summer.  Thus  while  empha- 
sizing the  unity  of  the  theme,  there  is  implied  a 
wealth  of  diversity  in  the  unity,  and  that  the  greater 
the  diversity  the  stronger  the  unity.  In  fact  the  law 
might  well  be  stated  as  diversity  in  unity. 

While  emphasizing  wealth  of  diversity,  the  law  does 
not  require  all  the  elements  of  the  theme  to  be  pre- 
sented ;  but  only  those  necessary  to  the  purpose 
under  the  circumstances.  All  elements  which  do 
not  further  the  purpose  must  be  strictly  rejected  ; 
but  every  element  which  will  further  the  purpose  must 
be  included.  To  whatever  end  the  subject  may  be 
presented,  many  elements  and  phases  of  the  subject 
have  to  be  rejected  ;  and  the  composer  must  often 
practice  self-denial  in  withholding  what  he  finds  inter- 
esting to  himself,  yet  irrelevant  to  his  purpose.  He 
may  desire  to  give  his  theme  unity  and  completeness 
in  itself,  but  he  must  yield  to  the  unity  of  the  theme 
in  relation  to  the  proposed  end. 

But  while  unity  does  not  require  all  the  attributes 
of  the  theme,  yet  care   must   be  taken  to  emphasize 


50  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  all  which  are  necessary  to  produce  the  desired 
effect.  Again,  the  necessity  for  the  complete  mastery 
of  the  theme  appears.  The  composer  has  ample 
resources  only  through  knowing  all  the  possibilities  of 
the  theme.  He  cannot  make  the  theme  go  for  all  it 
is  worth  to  the  auditor  without  knowing  the  wealth  of 
thought  which  it  contains.  He  must  be  able  to  dwell 
on  it  with  cumulative  power  till  the  end  is  realized  ; 
and  this  he  cannot  do  without  an  all-sided  view,  and 
without  having  explored  its  inner  constitution.  The 
cumulative  force  in  his  movement  is  by  the  wealth  of 
material  which  he  is  able  to  present.  The  composer 
is  most  conscious  of  the  effort  to  expand  and  amplify. 
His  greatest  strain  is  that  of  pushing  out  his  theme 
here  and  there  in  its  varied  and  distinct  features  till 
it  takes  possession  of  the  mind  addressed.  The  mind 
must  have  time  to  grow  into  a  new  state.  It  is  a 
great  art  to  be  able  to  hold  the  theme  close  to  the 
mind  long  enough  for  its  full  reaction  upon  the  theme, 
even  though  old  elements  have  to  be  repeated  ;  yet  in 
this  case  they  would  assume  new  aspects  and  relations. 
The  time  factor  is  most  easily  secured  when  the 
speaker  or  writer  has  a  wealth  of  views  and  materials 
provided.  The  unity  requires  the  action  of  the  theme 
on  the  mind  in  ways  varied  and  continuous  till  the 
mind  grows  into  the  state  desired.  Shakespeare,  in 
bringing  his  audience  up  to  the  climax,  illustrates  this 
principle  admirably.  His  wealth  of  invention  enables 
him  to  hold  the  auditor  in  one  movement  for  a  great 
length  of  time.  But  care  is  needed,  in  seeking  to  gain 
time,  to  keep  up  a  feeling  of  progress.     The  purpose 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  5 1 

is  defeated  as  soon  as  there  is  a  feeling  of  delay.  The 
auditor  must  feel  that  the  thought  is  being  developed 
as  rapidly  as  possible  ;  and  the  only  way  to  secure  this 
feeling  and  gain  the  necessary  time  is  to  have  the 
mind  of  the  author  in  rich  and  varied  touch  with  the 
subject  being  considered. 

But  the  effective  movement  to  a  mental  change  by 
means  of  a  theme  does  not  depend  wholly  on  the  selec- 
tion and  number  of  phases  and  elements  of  the  theme, 
but  finally  on  the  DietJiod  of  their  presentation. 

In  discourse  the  elements  are  seldom,  if  ever,  pre- 
sented in  the  order  in  which  they  logically  cohere;  but 
in  the  order  in  which  they  can  most  easily  be  appro- 
priated by  the  recipient.  The  discourse  order  is  the 
chronological  rather  than  the  logical  order;  the  point 
needed  by  the  mind  first  is  not  necessarily  of  first  im- 
portance to  the  subject.  To  instruct  children  in  the 
Civil  War  would  require  first  its  picture  and  moving 
panorama  of  events;  but  these  logically  follow  the 
cause  and  the  moving  spirit  of  the  war.  The  child 
must  begin  with  the  objective  and  picturable  aspects; 
and  it  may  be  that  these  are  all  he  can  receive  at  the 
time.  The  different  grades  of  ability  addressed  require 
different  arrangements  of  subject-matter.  Popular, 
scientific,  and  philosophic  discourse  employ  different 
methods  of  presenting  the  same  subject-matter.  And 
the  elements  arranged  for  the  purpose  of  instruction 
are  not  properly  arranged  for  volitional  or  emotional 
ends.  The  orator  does  not  use  materials  in  the  same 
order  as  does  the  poet ;  and  when  audiences  and  cir- 
cumstances vary  the  arrangement  varies  with  them. 


52  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

In  general,  the  discourse  must  move  freely  and 
smoothly  onward.  There  must  be  no  hitching  back 
and  forth;  the  thought  must  grow  by  easy  and  imper- 
ceptible gradations  from  point  to  point.  Not  that  it 
must  move  in  a  straight  line,  — for  rather  there  should 
be  rise  and  fall,  a  rhythmical  flow,  for  thought  and  feel- 
ing obey  the  universal  law  of  rhythmical  motion, —  but 
that  there  must  be  no  lunging  ahead,  or  returning  to 
pick  up  pieces  left  by  the  wayside.  No  one  feature 
gives  a  discourse  more  power  than  a  steady  onward 
movement  to  the  end  set  up.  All  hesitancy  and  eddy- 
ing about  of  the  thought  are  prime  sources  of  weakness. 
The  points  made  must  have  a  distinct  and  orderly  suc- 
cession, or  the  receiving  mind  will  be  baffled  in  its 
effort  to  organize  the  material  presented,  and  miss  the 
object  for  which  the  discourse  stands.  We  have  seen 
that  interpretation  is  primarily  the  process  of  bringing 
into  unity  the  elements  as  rapidly  as  they  are  pre- 
sented, and  nothing  can  assist  the  interpreting  mind  so 
much  as  the  orderly  arrangement  of  elements  in  their 
presentation. 

In  order  that  a  composer  master  a  theme  in  its  unity 
and  diversity,  so  that  he  may  wield  it  with  precision 
and  effect,  and  in  order  that  one  may  interpret  with 
appreciation  and  profit,  the  various  ways  in  which  a 
theme  is  organized  must  be  traced  out.  The  different 
methods  of  theme  organization  give  rise  to  clearly 
defined  discourse  processes. 


the  thought  in  discourse.  53 

The  Discourse  Processes. 

Since  themes  are  unities  of  elements,  it  follows  that 
the  two  primary  movements  of  thought  in  the  prepara- 
tion and  the  presentation  of  any  theme  for  any  purpose 
are  those  of  analysis  and  synthesis.  The  elements  of 
the  theme  must  first  be  discerned,  and  then  integrated 
into  the  whole.  Or  better,  perhaps,  three  steps  may 
be  distinguished  :  First,  seizing  the  theme  in  its  vague 
unity;  second,  analyzing  the  theme  into  its  elements; 
third,  organizing  the  elements  into  the  theme,  giving  a 
definite  organic  whole  instead  of  the  vague  one  grasped 
at  the  outset. 

This  analysis  and  synthesis  takes  definite  character 
from  the  kinds  of  unities  which  constitute  the  theme, 
—  from  the  kinds  of  relations  which  bind  the  parts 
into  unity. 

The  parts  of  an  engine  are  bound  together  in  co- 
operation to  the  end  for  which  the  engine  is  designed. 
The  parts  of  a  tree  are  parts  in  working  together  to 
carry  on  the  life  process  of  the  tree  as  a  whole.  The 
parts  of  the  human  body  contribute  to  one  life  process, 
and  are  not  parts  except  in  and  through  the  whole;  and 
the  whole  is  not  a  whole  except  in  and  through  the 
parts.  The  government  is  composed  of  parts  working 
together  to  secure  the  ends  of  justice.  The  earth,  the 
solar  system,  the  universe  have  parts  bound  together 
in  cooperation.  Such  a  unit  is  called  an  organic  unit. 
The  lowest  form  of  it,  or  the  form  in  which  it  seems  to 
vanish,  is  the  unit  whose  parts  have  spatial  unity,  as  in 
the  case  of  a  stone  or  a  pile  of  material.      Here  the 


54  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

parts  are  in  touch,  and  bound  together  by  physical 
force;  yet  in  this  case  the  parts  cooperate  to  make  the 
whole.  In  some  of  the  other  cases  named,  parts  were 
separated  in  space,  and  the  unity  consists  in  functional 
cooperation  rather  than  in  spatial  wholeness.  But  in 
both  cases  the  wholes  are  bounded  in  space,  and  both 
have  parts  whose  connection  makes  the  whole;  both 
are  called  individual  objects.  Gladstone  is  an  individ- 
ual ;  and  so  is  the  British  nation,  and  for  the  same 
reason.  The  police  force  of  a  city  is  an  individual 
police  force,  because  the  parts  work  together  to  keep 
order,  as  do  the  parts  of  one  policeman.  The  reasons 
given  for  calling  Jupiter  an  individual  apply  equally 
well  to  the  solar  system  as  an  individual.  Let  it  not 
be  understood,  therefore,  that  a  theme  to  be  individual 
must  consist  of  parts  touching  in  space  ;  yet  every  in- 
dividual, though  it  be  a  mental  act  or  state,  must  be 
figured  to  the  mind  as  bounded  in  space.  Hence,  such 
themes  must  first  be  presented  to  the  imagination  as 
pictured  wholes;  after  which  their  deeper  thought 
unity  may  be  penetrated. 

Further  guidance  for  presenting  the  individual  is 
obtained  from  noting  that  each  individual  has  parts 
which  coexist  in  space  and  parts  which  succeed  each 
other  in  time  —  space  wholes  and  time  wholes.  The 
parts  of  this  tree  exist  together  now,  but  considering 
the  life  of  this  tree  as  a  whole,  in  its  growth  from  the 
seed,  it  has  parts  succeeding  each  other:  as,  first  the 
sprout  and  then  the  shoot  appearing  above  ground, 
then  the  shrub,  etc.  A  battle  may  be  caught  up  in 
one  view  at  a  given  moment,  as  having  coexisting  parts 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  55 

in  space;  but  it  is  also  a  moving  panorama,  having 
parts  in  distinct  succession.  A  complete  view  of  the 
earth  brings  before  the  mind  its  successive  stages  of 
development,  and  also  its  parts  as  they  at  present  work 
together  side  by  side.  Thus  every  individual  is  a  space 
whole  or  a  time  whole  —  a  simultaneous  whole  or  a 
successive  whole. 

While  it  requires  both  views  of  an  individual  to 
complete  its  organization,  the  two  views  cannot  be 
taken  at  the  same  time.  This  will  become  evident  by 
an  attempt  to  think  of  an  object  as  fixed  and  as  chang- 
ing: at  the  same  time.  Since  this  is  true,  two  distinct 
discourse  processes  arise  in  treating  the  individual. 
The  process  presenting  the  individual  as  a  space,  or 
coexisting,  whole  is  called  Description;  the  process 
presenting  the  individual  as  a  time,  or  successive, 
whole  is  called  Narration. 

Themes  have  quite  a  different  kind  of  unity  from  the 
organic  unity  above  described.  A  sewing-machine  has 
its  origin  in  an  idea  which  creates  all  other  sewing-ma- 
chines, and  may  create  them  infinitely,  so  far  as  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  idea  is  concerned.  All  sewing-machines 
have  their  unity  in  the  one  originating  idea,  or  type. 
The  idea  as  an  outgoing  energy  produces  all  sewing- 
machines,  and  thus  gives  unity  to  all.  When  one  says 
simply  ''sewing-machine"  or  "the  sewing-machine" 
he  is  naming  the  type,  or  idea,  which  brings  forth  the 
individual  sewing-machines.  To  think  any  given  sew- 
ing-machine requires  it  to  be  viewed  in  connection  with 
the  common  idea  of  all  sewing-machines.  A  certain 
activity  produces  a  triangle  —  an  activity  which  goes 


56  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

out  and  comes  back  to  the  place  of  starting  by  two 
pointed  turns.  This  activity  produces  all  triangles, 
and  can  produce  them  infinitely.  All  are  one  in  this 
activity,  and  this  is  the  essence  of  each  one.  The 
mind  cannot  grasp  any  one  triangle  without  seizing 
upon  the  activity  which  produces  triangles  in  general. 
Triangles  may  vary  infinitely,  but  they  are  all  alike  in 
being  produced  by  an  activity  returning  to  the  place  of 
starting  by  two  pointed  turns.  There  is  an  idea,  a 
nature,  a  potency  which  produces  oak  trees,  and  which 
may  produce  them  without  limit.  All  trees  formed 
under  the  impulse  of  this  idea  are  one  in  that  idea; 
and  the  study  of  each  oak  requires  it  to  be  viewed  in 
connection  with  the  all-producing  idea.  When  we 
speak  of  the  nature  of  anything  we  have  reference  to 
its  producing  idea;  for  the  word  nature  means  that 
which  is  about  to  appear.  The  nature  of  man  is  the 
energy,  the  potency  which  persists  in  producing  men 
as  distinguished  from  other  objects.  The  nature  of 
an  Indian  is  the  fixed  idea  or  type  which  determines 
all  individual  Indians. 

Such  a  unit  is  called  a  class  unit,  or  concept,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  organic  unit.  The  class  unit  does 
not  mean  simply  the  common  productive  idea  of  a 
number  of  individuals,  but  the  unity  of  the  individuals 
in  and  through  the  idea.  The  parts  of  this  unit  are 
the  individuals  which  spring  from  the  same  originating 
source.  It  differs  from  the  organic  unit,  not  in  parts, 
but  in  the  way  the  parts  are  unified.  Thinking  of  the 
French  people  as  a  nation,  as  individuals  working  to- 
gether for  a  common  good,  we  have  an  individual  — 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  57 

a  nation  ;  but  thinking  of  them  as  being  Frenchmen, 
as  having  a  common  genesis,  we  have  a  class  unit. 
In  each  case  it  is  the  same  subject-matter,  —  the  same 
whole  and  the  same  parts,  —  but  in  the  former  the 
parts  are  unified  through  cooperation,  while  in  the 
latter  through  a  common  nature.  Each  triangle  has 
sides  which  work  together  to  make  a  triangle,  but 
these  sides  have  common  nature,  being  produced  by 
the  same  kind  of  movement,  which  makes  the  class 
units  called  sides.  And  so  with  the  angles  ;  they  help 
to  form  the  triangle,  but  the  same  activity  produces 
each  ;  by  the  former  they  are  organized,  and  by  the 
latter  classified.  Triangles  might  be  placed  together 
to  form  some  figure,  and  would  thus  help  one  another 
to  make  the  whole  ;  but  the  same  parts,  triangles,  may 
be  formed  into  a  class  by  conceiving  them  in  unity 
with  the  idea  producing  each  and  all.  Thus  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  organic  unit  and  the  class  unit  is 
not  that  between  different  parts  nor  different  wholes, 
but  in  the  manner  in  which  the  parts  are  bound 
into  wholes.  It  might  be  well  to  observe,  however, 
that  the  class  whole  cannot  be  bounded  in  space,  as 
can  the  organic  whole  ;  hence  it  is  not  a  space  whole. 
This  follows  from  the  fact  that  the  producing  energy, 
the  idea,  the  type,  can  create  individuals  infinitely.  After 
making  any  conceivable  number  of  engines  from  the  idea 
engine,  the  idea  remains  as  productive  as  ever.  Hence 
the  imagination  is  not  required  to  bound  the  class  unit, 
as  it  is  required  to  do  with  the  organic  unit. 

As  the  organic  unit  has  two  aspects,  so  has  the  class 
unit.     Class    unity  consists,  as  we  have  seen,   in    the 


58  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

relation  of  the  parts,  the  individuals,  to  the  one  princi- 
ple which  produces  the  parts.  The  unity  is  that  of 
the  individuals  with  the  general  creating  them.  This 
unity  can  be  taken  as  it  exists  at  a  given  time,  simply 
as  a  fixed  thing,  somewhat  as  the  individual  is  viewed 
in  description  ;  or  the  unity  may  be  thought  of  in  the 
process  of  being  established  under  the  influence  of  the 
active  principle,  somewhat  as  the  individual  is  viewed 
in  narration.  Ocean  currents  may  be  considered  as 
they  are,  —  the  individual  currents  as  in  unity  with  a 
physical  principle  which  constitutes  them  what  they 
are ;  or  the  physical  principle  may  be  viewed  in  the 
active  production  of  them,  or,  through  them,  of  other 
phenomena.  The  distinction  is  simply  that  between 
individuals  as  already  existing  in  the  unity  of  a  com- 
mon nature  and  individuals  in  the  process  of  being 
produced  by  a  common  nature  or  of  producing  other 
individuals. 

From  the  side  of  mind,  it  is  the  distinction  between 
concept  and  judgment.  The  concept  is  the  grasping 
of  the  unity  existing  among  individuals,  while  the 
judgment  is  the  process  of  establishing  in  thought  the 
unity  between  the  subject  and  predicate  of  thought  ; 
which  interpreted  means  the  unity  between  the  indi- 
vidual and  the  general.  When  the  subject  and  predi- 
cate of  a  judgment  become  identified  the  judgment 
vanishes  into  a  new  concept,  and  the  desired  unity  is 
established,  and  may  be  taken  in  the  future  without 
affirming  and  arguing. 

However  the  matter  may  be  turned  the  unity  appears 
as  that  between  the  individual  and  the  general,  either 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  59 

as  fixed,  as  a  fact,  or  in  the  process  of  becoming.  The 
first  kind  of  unity  is  set  forth  by  the  process  of  Expo- 
sition ;  the  second,  by  the  process  of  Argumentation. 
These  processes  are  distinct,  because,  as  in  the  case  of 
description  and  narration,  unity  cannot  be  viewed  as 
established  and  in  the  process  of  being  established  at 
the  same  time. 

The  four  discourse  processes  are  alike  in  that  each 
deals  with  individual  objects  ;  but  they  differ  in  that 
description  deals  with  individual  objects  as  fixed,  as 
spatial  wholes,  as  they  stand  organized  at  a  given 
time  ;  narration,  with  individuals  as  changing  in  time, 
as  time  wholes,  as  organized  wholes  progressive  in 
time  ;  exposition,  with  individuals  as  in  fixed  unity 
with  a  common  productive  energy  ;  argumentation, 
with  individuals  in  the  active  process  of  unity  under  a 
general  principle.  In  all  cases  the  purpose  is  to  pre- 
sent the  theme  in  unity,  and  the  different  processes 
are  only  so  many  phases  of  a  movement  to  that  end,  — 
phases  depending  on  the  kind  of  unity  inherent  in  the 
subject-matter  itself.  All  of  the  processes  may  be 
required  in  the  same  discourse,  but  the  character  of 
the  discourse  as  a  whole  is  determined  by  the  kind  of 
unity  which  the  discourse  seeks  ultimately  to  estab- 
lish. The  relation  of  the  processes  is  not  that  of 
higher  and  lower,  or  that  of  simplicity  and  complexity, 
but  that  of  the  view  taken  of  the  subject-matter.  For 
different  purposes  the  same  theme  may  be  presented 
under  one  or  the  other  of  the  different  processes. 

Hence,  the  three  ends  of  discourse  are  realized  by 
four  processes,  and  to  the  three  kinds  of  discourse  on 


60  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  basis  of  the  effect  produced  must  be  added  the 
four  kinds  of  discourse  on  the  basis  of  the  process  by 
which  the  effect  is  produced.  These  processes,  based 
on  the  nature  of  the  theme,  move  forward  under  the 
law  of  purpose.  It  thus  appears  that  the  processes  of 
discourse  are  controlled  by  two  factors  :  (i)  the  rela- 
tions which  constitute  the  theme,  and  (2)  the  laws  im- 
posed by  the  mind  addressed.  These  factors  must 
now  guide  us  in  the  detailed  consideration  of  the  dis- 
course processes. 


DESCRIPTION. 

Description  is  the  process  by  which  one  mind  presents 
to  another,  through  language,  an  individual  as  consti- 
tuted of  coexisting  elements. 

If  the  real  object  or  its  picture  could  be  presented 
to  the  eye,  its  attributes  and  parts  would  appear  in 
their  unity  at  once,  —  at  least  in  their  spatial  unity. 
But  by  the  limitation  of  language,  when  the  several 
ideas  are  presented  in  discourse  they  must  follow  each 
other  in  an  order  of  time.  In  this  respect  language  is 
inferior  to  painting.  Painting,  which  employs  figures 
and  colors  in  space,  presents  attributes  and  parts  as 
they  coexist  ;  thus  freeing  the  mind  from  the  neces- 
sity of  unifying  the  constituent  ideas,  so  far  as  the 
superficial  unity  is  concerned.  But  in  expressing 
the  inner  meaning  of  the  object,  as  interpreted  by  the 
judgment  and  penetrative  imagination,  language  has 
more  than  a  compensating  advantage.  While  it  is 
possible  to  paint  or  to  sculpture  all  parts  of  the  human 
body,  the  functional  relation  of  each  to  life,  as  inter- 
preted by  the  judgment,  can  be  expressed  in  language 
only.  Painting  can  express  only  the  outer  unity  of  an 
object,  while  language  can  express  the  inner  unity  of 
thought.  The  two  facts — namely,  that  the  object  to 
be  described  consists  of  coexisting  elements,  and  that, 
by  the  necessities  of  language,  these  elements  must  be 
presented  in  succession  —  make  the  law  of  unity  in  de- 
scription difficult  to  obey.     The  law  requires  the  object 


62  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

to  be  so  presented  that  the  interpreter  will  readily  and 
correctly  organize  it  into  the  unity  it  was  before 
broken  in  the  process  of  presentation. 

The  first  step  in  description  is  that  of  presenting 
the  theme  as  a  whole  by  means  of  its  attributes. 

Attributive  Description. 

The  theme  as  a  whole  is  presented  by  means  of  its 
attributes,  and  this  process  may  be  called  attributive 
description.  Any  means  by  which  this  object  is 
known  not  to  be  that  is  an  attribute.  Since  attri- 
butes do  not  mutually  exclude  each  other  as  do  parts, 
they  always  distinguish  objects  as  wholes.  The  odor, 
flavor,  weight,  and  form  of  the  orange  are  interfused 
throughout,  and  occupy  the  same  space  ;  while  the 
peel,  pulp,  and  seeds  must  occupy  different  spaces. 

An  object  is  first  distinguished  from  other  objects 
by  its  relations  to  them  ;  and  the  first  step  in  this 
phase  of  description  is  to  present  the  theme 

By  Attributes  of  Relation.  —  This  method  presents 
the  object  under  the  relation  of  Purpose  and  Means, 
Cause  and  Effect,  Time  and  Place,  and  Likeness  and 
Difference. 

The  use  of  each  of  these  attributes  involves  some 
object  other  than  the  one  under  consideration.  To 
think  of  the  purpose  of  an  object  or  of  the  object  as 
means  carries  the  thought  directly  to  something  be- 
yond the  immediate  object  of  thought.  To  think  of 
the  cause  or  the  effect  of  anything  involves  more 
than  the   single   thing.     A  second  object  is  required 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  63 

to  locate  anything  in  space  or  time ;  and  likeness  or 
difference  is  clearly  inconceivable  without  two  objects. 
1.  Purpose  is  the  highest  distinguishing  mark  of  an 
object  ;  and  to  state  the  purpose  to  which  an  object  is 
means  is  to  make  the  most  comprehensive  description 
of  it  possible  by  the  use  of  a  single  term.  Purpose 
calls  the  object  into  being,  and  unifies  its  other  attri- 
butes and  its  parts.  These  are  what  they  are  because 
of  the  object's  purpose,  or  end  which  it  fills.  There- 
fore purpose  is  the  most  fundamental  truth,  the  most 
pervasive  fact,  that  can  be  given  in  the  description  of 
an  object.  All  thought  would  be  thwarted  without 
the  ideas  of  design  and  adaptation.  One  cannot  speak 
intelligently  about  a  book,  a  bridge,  a  plant,  an  animal, 
or  the  earth,  without  employing  in  some  form  these 
conceptions.  The  whole  question  before  us  in  this 
discussion  of  discourse  is  that  of  its  construction  or 
of  its  interpretation  under  the  law  of  adaptation  and 
design.  In  any  field  of  labor  man  has  only  to  design 
and  adapt.  All  things  are  organized  under  ends 
sought  ;  and  there  is  always  assumed  a  supreme  end 
which  organizes  all,  — 

"one  far-off  divine  event, 
To  which  the  whole  creation  moves." 

And  again  :  — 

"  I  see  in  part 
That  all  as  in  some  piece  of  art, 
Is  toil  cooperant  to  an  end." 

We  should  expect,  therefore,  the  relation  of  purpose 
and  means  to  permeate  and  control  every  description  ; 
and  yet  one  not  accustomed  to  note  the  fact  will  be 


64  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

surprised  at  the  frequency  and  variety  of  terms  used 
in  a  description  to  express  this  relation.  They  are 
not  confined  to  those  of  direct  expression,  such  as 
purpose,  adaptation,  aim,  object,  design,  intent,  motive, 
destination,  in  order  to,  the  "be  all  and  the  end  all," 
and  the  like  ;  but  are  found  lurking  in  disguises  of 
many  forms,  as  in  this  :  — 

"And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days  ; 
Then  heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 
And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays." 

The  three  expressions,  "rare,"  "perfect,"  and  "in 
tune,"  express  the  adaptation  of  the  day  to  its  life- 
giving  purpose.  A  day  is  perfect  in  proportion  as  it 
nourishes  life,  for  that  is  its  purpose.  To  say  that  a 
day  is  rare  is  to  say  that  it  is  exceptionally  well  fitted 
to  the  end  of  life.  The  earth  is  in  tune  when  it  can 
produce  the  song  of  life.  Lowell's  whole  description 
of  the  day  in  June  brings  out  in  varied  ways  this 
one  idea.  And  when  he  describes  the  mountain  by 
saying,  — 

"  With  our  faint  heart  the  mountain  strives," 

he  expresses,  in  the  word  "strives,"  the  fact  that  the 
mountain  seeks  to  influence  our  lives  for  the  better. 
Note  the  same  relation  expressed  in  the  following 
lines  from  the  Spanish  by  Longfellow,  describing  the 
brook  :  — 

41  Laugh  of  the  mountain  !  lyre  of  bird  and  tree  ! 
Pomp  of  the  meadow  !  mirror  of  the  morn  I  " 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  6$ 

This  relation  has  two  forms,  —  one  in  which  the 
object  is  considered  in  adaptation  to  an  end  ;  and 
the  other  in  which  the  object  itself  is  conceived  as 
the  purposer.  This  latter  phase  is  known  as  descrip- 
tion by  personification.  Note  its  use  in  the  following 
exquisite  bit  from  Lowell's  description  of  the  brook, 
in  "  The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal  "  :  — 

"  Down  swept  the  chill  wind  from  the  mountain  peak, 
From  the  snow  five  thousand  summers  old  ; 
On  open  wold  and  hill-top  bleak 
It  had  gathered  all  the  cold, 

And  whirled  it  like  sleet  on  the  wanderer's  cheek  ; 
It  carried  a  shiver  everywhere 
From  the  unleafed  boughs  and  pastures  bare  ; 
The  little  brook  heard  it  and  built  a  roof 
'Neath  which  he  could  house  him  winter-proof  ; 
All  night  by  the  white  stars'  frosty  gleams 
He  groined  his  arches  and  matched  his  beams  ; 
Slender  and  clear  were  his  crystal  spars 
As  the  lashes  of  light  that  trim  the  stars." 

In  the  description  of  the  June  day,  occurring  in  the 
same  poem  as  the  foregoing,  the  author  presents  it  as 
being  adapted  to  a  purpose  ;  but  the  wind  and  the 
brook  are  presented  as  purposing. 

2.  After  an  object  has  been  purposed  a  cause  must 
operate  to  produce  it  ;  and  when  produced  it  acts 
and  reacts  on  other  objects,  manifesting  itself  in 
effects.  The  relation  of  cause  and  effect  produces 
changes  in  objects,  and  is  more  prominently  employed 
in  narration  ;  yet  it  is  essential  to  description.  In 
giving  a  full  conception  of  the  Andes  Mountains  it  is 
necessary  to  state  the  force  that  upheaved  them,  and 


66  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

their  effects    on    climate,    vegetable    and   animal    life, 
and  on  the  industries  of  man. 

The  relation  of  cause  and  effect  is  the  leading 
means  of  presenting  a  mental  state.  To  bring  a 
particular  mental  state  fully  into  consciousness,  it  is 
necessary  to  present  the  conditions  which  produced 
the  state  ;  and  these  may  be  further  strengthened 
by  giving  the  conduct  of  the  person  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  state.  To  describe  a  state  of  fear  is  to 
present  some  object  that  produced  the  state  ;  as  a 
tornado  whirling  aloft  the  ruined  houses  of  a  city,  with 
the  effect  of  the  fear  in  the  wild  gesticulations  and 
screams  of  the  fleeing  inhabitants.  Longfellow,  in 
describing  his  sadness  in  "  The  Day  is  Done,"  gives 
the  cause  of  his  condition  in  the  falling  darkness  and 
the  light  gleaming  through  the  rain  and  the  mist, 
and  also  the  effect  in  the  fact  that  he  is  driven  to 
seek  relief. 

Under  the  same  relation  a  person's  physical  appear- 
ance may  be  described  to  suggest  his  spiritual  attri- 
butes, since  the  latter,  to  a  certain  extent,  are  causes 
to  the  former  as  effects.  Chaucer,  in  the  Prologue  to 
the  "Canterbury  Tales,"  introduces  the  spiritual  quali- 
ties of  each  character  by  means  of  his  physical  attri- 
butes. And  thus  Irving,  in  "The  Legend  of  Sleepy 
Hollow,"  brings  out  the  spiritual  Ichabod  Crane  by 
means  of  the  physical  Ichabod. 

Physical  objects  are  frequently  presented,  and  in 
some  of  their  phases  can  be  presented  only,  by  giving 
their  effects  on  the  observer.  To  speak  of  an  object 
as    awful,    terrible,    stupendous,    sublime,   picturesque, 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  6? 

grotesque,  or  beautiful  is  to  present  the  object  by 
means  of  the  effect  produced  on  the  observer.  Irving 
talks  of  sober  and  melancholy  days,  mournful  magnifi- 
cence, gloomy  remains,  a  picture  of  glory,  amazing 
height,  noiseless  reverence,  disastrous  story,  awful 
harmony,  thrilling  thunders,  solemn  concords  ;  and  in 
so  doing  speaks  in  terms  of  the  effect  produced. 

3.  Relation  in  time  is  not  so  prominently  used  in 
description  as  in  narration  ;  yet  its  use  frequently 
facilitates  the  presentation  of  other  attributes.  Stat- 
ing the  time  of  the  day  and  of  the  year  at  which  a 
landscape  is  observed  is  necessary  in  order  to  bring 
the  picture  briefly  and  fully  before  the  mind.  This 
relation  has  great  power  of  suggestiveness.  To  in- 
troduce the  description  of  a  shipwreck  by,  "  It  was 
midnight  on  the  waters,"  both  arouses  a  vague  sense 
of  fear,  which  the  fuller  description  is  to  make  clear 
and  strong,  and  fills  the  imagination  at  once  with  a 
general  conception  of  the  whole.  To  state  that  a 
man  is  old  carries  with  it  gray  hairs,  dim  eyes,  feeble 
voice,  palsied  limbs,  and  clouded  memory.  To  know 
that  a  church  has  stood  for  a  hundred  years  implies 
more  than  can  be  told  in  pages  of  descriptive  detail. 

The  location  of  an  object  in  space  corresponds  to 
its  location  in  time.  A  material  object  cannot  be 
conceived  without  relation  to  other  objects  in  space  ; 
and  the  parts  of  an  object  can  be  conceived  only  in 
spatial  relations  to  each  other.  And  spiritual  objects, 
such  as  mental  activities  and  states,  are  figured  under 
spatial  relations.  In  treating  one's  moral  character 
his  virtues    are   placed    side    by   side   as   if  they  had 


68  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

spatial  qualities.  Thus  space  seems  to  be  a  universal 
form  which  the  mind  imposes  on  all  objects  in  order 
to  think  them.  The  mind  itself  is  figured  under 
spatial  relations  ;  as,  large  and  small,  high  and  low, 
few-sided  and  many-sided,  and  the  like  ;  and  character 
is  spoken  of  as  straight  or  crooked,  erect  or  prostrate, 
etc. 

4.  The  relation  of  Likeness  and  Difference  gives 
rise  to  a  distinct  process  of  description  called  Com- 
parison and  Contrast.  All  objects  are  known  by 
means  of  likenesses  and  differences.  An  object  can- 
not be  grasped  as  an  object  were  it  not  both  alike 
and  different  from  other  objects.  To  bring  these  like- 
nesses and  differences  into  consciousness  is  one  of 
the  most  effective  means  at  the  composer's  command 
of  presenting  the   elements  of    an   object   effectively. 

Generally  the  process  employs  a  well-known  object 
as  a  means  of  presenting  the  one  under  consideration. 
It  has  been  seen  that  the  chief  weakness  of  a  verbal 
description  is  the  limitation  of  language  which  pre- 
vents the  writer  or  speaker  from  flashing  all  parts 
of  the  object  on  the  mind  at  once.  The  more  nearly 
this  can  be  done,  the  better.  Comparison  and  contrast 
is  a  most  powerful  means  to  this  end.  Often  a 
detailed  process  of  thought  and  a  tediousness  of  ex- 
pression may  be  avoided  by  comparing  and  contrast- 
ing the  object  under  discussion  with  some  well-known 
object. 

This  is  not  merely  brevity  in  language,  which  comes 
from  substituting  a  known  object  for  words  ;  it  econo- 
mizes the  thought  processes.     Without  requiring  the 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  69 

mind  to  trace  the  action  of  a  valve  in  the  heart, 
attention  may  be  called  to  the  action  of  a  valve  in  a 
pump,  if  the  latter  be  familiar  to  the  audience.  A 
strange  fruit  may  be  put  before  the  mind  at  once,  by 
comparing  it  to  an  apple,  if  it  is  essentially  like  an 
apple  ;  and  thus  save  weariness  of  details  in  both 
language  and  thought.  To  refer  a  strange  animal  to 
its  species  saves  a  volume  of  descriptive  detail  and  a 
useless  repetition  of  thought  processes.  This  implied 
comparison  presents  the  essential  characteristics  of 
the  object  ;  and  if  the  special  marks  of  the  individual 
are  required,  a  few  points  of  contrast  will  fill  the  out- 
line. Of  two  objects  equally  well  known,  comparison 
and  contrast  is  a  strong  means  of  presenting  both  at 
the  same  time.  Often  a  vivid  and  sufficient  descrip- 
tion may  be  made  by  presenting  an  object  by  its 
extreme  opposite. 

Whether  comparison  or  contrast  shall  be  the  leading 
method  depends  on  whether  likenesses  or  differences 
are  assumed  to  be  most  prominent  in  the  object.  If 
two  objects  are  supposed  to  be  different,  then  it  is 
most  effective  to  present  them  in  their  likenesses  ; 
and  if  they  are  assumed  to  be  alike  then  the  presenta- 
tion of  differences  will  fix  best  the  individuality  of 
each.  But  usually  likenesses  and  differences  should 
be  carried  along  together.  In  doing  this  the  two 
methods  should  be  kept  distinct.  A  point  of  likeness 
may  be  given,  and  then  a  corresponding  point  of  dif- 
ference, thus  carrying  the  likenesses  and  differences 
in  parallel  lines.  Or  all  the  likenesses  may  be  given 
by  themselves,  and  then  the  differences  by  themselves. 


JO  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

The  purpose  being  to  abbreviate  thought  and  language 
processes,  the  object  chosen  with  which  to  compare 
the  theme  must  (i)  be  a  familiar  object,  and  must  (2) 
have  the  greatest  number  of  points  common  to  the 
theme.  To  select  an  object  less  familiar  than  the 
theme,  or  points  of  comparison  that  need  explanation 
themselves,  is  to  defeat  the  purpose  of  the  comparison. 
In  order  that  the  object  may  have  the  greatest  number 
of  points  common  to  the  theme,  it  must  not  be  chosen 
from  a  class  more  comprehensive  than  necessary. 
The  comparison  of  a  horse  with  a  reptile  would  violate 
this  law.  Both  belong  to  vertebrates,  but  it  would  be 
better  to  choose  from  mammals,  as  the  bat  ;  better 
still  to  choose  from  quadrupeds,  as  the  lion  ;  and  still 
better  to  choose  from  the  ungulata,  as  the  ox. 

After  presenting  an  object  as  a  whole  by  means  of 
its  distinct  relations  to  some  other  object,  one  other 
step  in  attributive  description  remains;  namely,  that 
of  presenting  the  object 

By  Means  of  its  Properties.  —  Properties  are  attri- 
butes which  inhere  in  the  nature  of  the  object.  They 
determine  it  from  within,  while  relations  determine  it 
from  without.  Properties  are  of  two  kinds,  Primary 
and  Secondary. 

1.  Primary  qualities  are  essential  to  the  existence  of 
the  object,  and  are  involved  in  every  conception  of  it. 
To  think  them  away  is  to  destroy  all  thought  of  the 
object.  They  fall  into  two  general  classes,  Exten- 
sion and  Resistance. 

a.  Extension,  which  may  be  called  the  mathematical 
quality,  gives  rise  to  the  two  subordinate  attributes  of 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  J\ 

Form  and  Size  ;  the  first  resulting  from  the  kind  of 
extension,  the  second  from  the  degree  of  extension. 
These  relations  unify  the  other  attributes  to  the  senses, 
as  purpose  does  to  thought.  The  weight,  color,  taste, 
and  odor  coincide  within  the  same  form  and  limit. 
These  attributes  give  the  empty  form  of  the  object, 
which  the  other  attributes  fill  out. 

Position,  form,  and  size  are,  after  purpose,  most 
commonly  used  to  distinguish  objects.  They  even 
serve  to  distinguish  spiritual  objects  in  a  figurative 
sense.  We  speak  of  a  large-minded  man;  of  a  man 
"four  square  to  all  the  winds  that  blow  " ;  of  a  straight 
man  ;  of  a  right  and  a  wrong  headed  man  ;  of  men 
superior  and  inferior  ;  of  high-minded  men  ;  of  men 
above  or  below  a  certain  plane  of  conduct,  etc. 

b.  The  other  class  of  primary  qualities,  the  different 
forms  of  resistance,  add  to  the  idea  of  a  mere  extended 
form  that  of  a  power  which  resists,  either  as  an  active 
or  passive  force.  A  resisting,  as  well  as  an  extended, 
something  is  essential  to  our  notion  of  an  object,  whether 
it  be  a  conception  of  a  material  or  a  spiritual  object. 

The  general  attribute  of  passive  resistance  manifests 
itself  in  particular  objects  as  hard,  soft,  firm,  fluid, 
tough,  brittle,  rigid,  flexible,  rough,  smooth,  light,  heavy, 
compressible,  incompressible,  elastic,  non-elastic,  etc. — 
the  physical  properties  of  matter,  as  the  others  were 
the  mathematical.  It  is  obvious  that  these  attributes 
are  given  primarily  by  the  muscular  sense,  the  lowest 
sense  giving  the  most  fundamental  quality.  This 
sense,  through  these  primary  qualities  of  resistance, 
brings    us    into    a   knowledge    of    external    existence. 


72  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

While  the  spatial  relations  condition  the  existence  of 
matter  as  such,  these  are  the  inner  forces  which  de- 
termine and  distinguish  all  objects  as  objects.  They 
are  not  determined  from  without,  but  are  themselves 
the  shaping  and  conditioning  forces.  These  forces 
reveal  themselves  only  in  reaction  against  a  force 
within  ourselves,  and  with  them  we  begin  our  struggle 
with  the  outer  world.  These  physical  attributes,  which 
are  manifested  in  the  struggle  with  the  material  world, 
are  the  ones  attributed  to  spirit  in  its  struggle  in  the 
moral  world,  such  as  firm,  rigid,  resisting,  flexible,  stern, 
unyielding,  stable,  resolute,  strong,  lenient,  persistent, 
austere,  rigorous,  etc.  More  important  than  passive 
resistance  is  the  active  outgoing  of  the  object  to  en- 
counter the  world  about  it,  reaching  its  most  significant 
form  in  self-activity  and  will.  Objects  reveal  their 
true  nature  in  action,  and  for  this  reason  attributes  of 
action  must  be  employed  in  description.  The  river 
flows,  the  bird  sings,  the  mind  thinks;  this  is  their 
nature.  A  man's  character  is  always  described  by 
giving  his  actions.  While  the  actions  are  fleeting, 
they  point  to  some  permanent  quality  from  which  they 
arise.  In  fact  attributes  of  action  often  signify  only 
the  power  to  act;  as  when  we  say  that  a  bird  sings. 
This  does  not  mean  that  it  is  in  the  active  process  of 
singing,  but  only  that  it  has  the  power  to  sing. 

A  spiritual  object  can  be  described  only  through 
attributes  of  action.  The  primary  attribute  of  mind  is 
activity.  We  infer  its  nature  from  its  acts.  A  man's 
specific  acts  and  utterances  are  the  key  to  his  inner 
life.     To  show  that  patriotism  was  one  of  the  traits  of 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  73 

Washington's  life,  is  to  bring  before  the  mind  what  he 
said  and  did.  When  the  novelist  or  dramatist  creates 
a  character,  he  causes  the  character  to  reveal  himself 
in  speech  and  action.  The  writer  endows  him  with 
some  life  principle  at  the  outset,  and  then  contrives 
occasions  and  opportunities  for  him  to  say  and  do  what 
is  in  keeping  with  a  man  thus  endowed.  After  the 
character  has  once  in  him  the  breath  of  life,  a  real 
controlling  principle,  he  passes  from  under  the  control 
of  his  creator,  doing  those  things  which  it  is  fitting  for 
one  thus  constituted  to  do.  The  delineator  has  only  to 
watch  how  his  hero  conducts  himself  under  all  the 
circumstances  of  life.  "  People  think  an  author  makes 
his  characters  and  moves  them  at  his  will,  like  so  many 
jumping-jacks,  controlled  by  hidden  strings.  If  that 
were  so  each  character  would  be  a  repetition  of  the 
author  himself,  and  nobody  would  read  the  book.  An 
author's  characters  are  beyond  his  control  ;  they  do  as 
they  please,  and  if  anybody  thinks  the  men  of  Drum- 
tochty  are  to  be  easily  handled  he  does  not  know  them."  1 
Biography,  in  setting  forth  the  growth  of  character, 
is  a  most  efficient  means  to  character  description.  This 
in  process  is  narration ;  yet  the  narration,  if  the  purpose 
be  to  arrive  at  the  essential  elements  of  the  man's  life 
as  a  completed  product,  is  subordinate  to  the  process 
of  description.  This,  too,  gives  the  best  opportunity 
for  showing  the  reaction  of  the  environment  on  the 
character.  While  the  individual  moulds  his  age  he  is 
moulded  by  it.  His  traits  and  habits  are  partially 
accounted  for  in  the  life  from  which  he  sprang. 

1  Ian  Maclaren. 


74  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

2.  The  secondary  attributes  are  less  essential  to  the 
object.  They  are  felt  to  be  affections  of  the  senses 
rather  than  qualities  of  the  object.  Sound  is  felt  to  be 
subjective,  while  firmness,  given  by  the  muscular  sense, 
is  felt  to  be  in  the  object.  The  muscular  sense  gives 
an  objective,  resisting  something,  which  as  cause  pro- 
duces a  subjective  effect  on  the  sense  of  touch,  taste, 
smell,  hearing,  and  sight,  giving  rise  to  the  various 
tactile  sensations,  tastes,  odors,  sounds,  and  colors. 
These  senses  cannot  reveal  to  us  the  objective  world, 
unless  the  sense  of  sight  be  an  exception,  cooperating 
with  the  muscular  sense  to  give  externality  and  form. 
With  this  exception,  these  secondary  attributes  produce 
their  effect  on  the  senses  through  an  active  condition 
of  the  body  to  which  the  attributes  belong.  The 
object  to  be  tasted  or  smelt  must  be  in  a  state  of  disso- 
lution, and  to  be  heard,  in  a  state  of  motion.  Sight 
and  touch  are  more  nearly  like  the  muscular  sense,  in 
that  they  present  the  body  in  its  normal  condition;  yet 
here  light  is  conveyed  to  the  eye  through  the  vibrations 
of  the  particles  of  the  body,  and  the  same  is  true  of 
some  form  of  tactile  sensations. 

These  attributes  are  secondary  only  in  the  sense  that 
they  are  less  essential  to  the  existence  of  the  object. 
If  the  basis  were  the  effect  on  the  mind,  the  order 
would  seem  reversed;  for  sight  and  hearing  stand  first, 
in  that  they  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  soul,  while 
taste  and  smell  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  body;  and 
the  other  attributes  to  the  wants  of  the  object. 

Thus  the  muscular  sense  stands  at  one  extreme  of 
the  sense  scale,  giving  that  which  is  of  first  importance 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  75 

to  the  object;  and  hearing  and  sight  at  the  other,  giving 
that  which  is  of  first  importance  to  the  mind. 

The  terms  used  to  name  secondary  physical  qualities 
are  freely  used  metaphorically  to  name  spiritual  quali- 
ties, as  was  found  to  be  the  case  in  primary  qualities. 
In  fact,  all  words  descriptive  of  spiritual  objects  origi- 
nally signified  physical  attributes.  Those  that  seem 
now  to  be  applied  literally,  as  calm,  candid,  pure, 
sincere,  bright,  dull,  etc.,  have  simply  lost  their  physi- 
cal analogy  by  constant  use.  It  thus  appears  that  a 
copious  vocabulary  of  words  expressing  physical  quali- 
ties is  essential  to  the  description  of  spiritual  objects. 

The  presentation  of  an  object  as  a  whole  under  the 
relation  of  substance  and  attribute  prepares  the  way  for 
its  presentation  under  the  relation  of  whole  and  part. 
This  process  is  called  Partition,  or 

Partitive  Description. 

Whether  it  be  a  physical  or  a  mental  object,  it  can- 
not be  conceived  without  parts.  It  must  at  least  have 
a  top  and  a  bottom,  a  right  and  a  left  side,  a  beginning 
and  an  end,  an  inside  and  an  outside.  Whole  and  part 
are  correlative,  for  neither  can  be  conceived  without 
the  other.  Thus  grasping  a  whole  is  the  grasping  of 
attributes  and  parts.  Without  both  of  these  ideas  not 
even  a  start  can  be  made  in  the  description  of  an 
object;  and  a  description  can  involve  nothing  else  than 
the  presentation  of  attributes  and  parts. 

Parts,  as  we  have  seen,  differ  from  attributes  in  be- 
ing mutually  exclusive.     Each  part  must  occupy  a  space 


?6  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

of  its  own,  and  each  part  taken  by  itself  constitutes 
a  new  individual.  The  old  individual  from  which  the 
new  is  derived  is  but  a  part  of  a  larger  whole.  This 
fact  further  distinguishes  parts  from  attributes,  since 
an  attribute  cannot  exist  or  be  thought  of  as  an  attri- 
bute apart  from  the  object  to  which  it  belongs.  Each 
part  has  the  same  distinguishing  attributes  as  the  whole, 
and  must  be  presented  as  if  it  itself  were  a  whole,  with 
the  further  step  of  unifying  the  parts  in  the  whole. 
The  attributes  given  of  the  parts  must,  therefore,  be 
such  as  will  unify  them  in  the  whole. 

What  this  means  has  already  been  largely  indicated 
under  the  discussion  of  the  organic  unit  as  distin- 
guished from  the  class  unity.  The  parts  in  the  lowest 
phase  of  the  organic  unit  are  simply  aggregated  in  space. 
In  this,  mere  position  is  the  unifying  attribute;  an 
object  appears  as  a  whole  to  the  senses  or  to  the  im- 
agination. It  is  a  mere  external  unity,  and  the  whole 
is  simply  the  sum  of  its  parts.  The  parts  cooperate 
simply  by  addition,  as  people  collected  make  a  multi- 
tude or  a  mass,  or  as  a  number  of  oranges  make 
a  pile  of  oranges.  If  the  oranges  were  built  into  a 
pyramid  they  would  then  cooperate  a  little  more 
definitely  to  form  the  whole;  and  other  attributes  of 
each  individual  besides  mere  aggregation  must  be 
given.  Now  it  is  not  simply  the  fact  of  being  together, 
but  of  being  together  in  a  specified  way.  And  rising 
still  higher  in  the  scale  of  organic  unity,  as  in  the  tree 
or  a  school  in  which  the  parts  actively  cooperate,  still 
other  and  more  complex  attributes  of  each  part  are 
involved   in   showing  the  unity  of  each  part  with  the 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  fj 

whole.  This  requires  always  a  statement  of  the 
function  of  the  part,  together  with  the  attributes  of 
the  part  which  adapt  it  to  its  function.  But  in  all 
cases  such  attributes  of  a  part  must  be  given  as  make 
it  a  member  of  the  whole.  If  the  whole  is  a  mere 
aggregate,  it  is  necessary  to  give  only  the  position  of 
each  part  with  reference  to  the  whole;  but.  if  there  is 
active  cooperation,  the  attributes  which  adapt  the  part 
in  the  cooperation  must  be  given.  Thus  parts,  as 
wholes,  are  presented  through  attributes,  but  only  by 
means  of  those  attributes  which  bind  them  into  the 
unity  of  the  whole. 

The  law  of  unity  in  Partition  requires  that  the  parts 
be  so  presented  that  the  receiving  mind  may  readily 
and  correctly  organize  them  into  the  whole.  This  can 
be  done  only 

i.  When  the  farts  are  made  on  the  same  basis  of 
division. 

In  dividing  an  individual  there  is  choice  of  bases, 
permitted  by  the  nature  of  the  object,  and  determined 
by  the  purpose  of  the  description.  It  may  serve  the 
purpose  best  to  follow  some  accidental  basis,  as  the 
order  in  which  the  parts  appear  to  the  eye,  or 
the  relative  position  in  space.  Such  obvious  and 
superficial  bases  are  always  used  in  the  lower  order 
of  description  —  descriptions  in  which  the  sensuous 
phases  of  the  object  are  made  prominent.  The  more 
scientific  the  description  the  more  fundamental  the 
basis.  This  is  a  question  of  adaptation  to  a  purpose. 
On  the  basis  of  separation  in  space,  the  child  readily 
divides  the  human  body  into  head,  trunk,  and  limbs. 


78  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

This  is  the  best  basis  for  the  child,  but  the  physiologist 
would  insist  on  a  basis  more  intimately  connected  with 
life  processes.  The  ordinary  description  of  a  landscape 
would  require  the  mention  of  such  parts  as  appear  at 
different  places,  or  as  occur  at  different  moments  of 
time.  But  for  geographical  purposes,  the  basis  must 
have  some  -fundamental  relation  to  life.  Every  change 
in  the  basis  gives  a  new  set  of  parts. 

Not  only  does  this  law  require  the  basis  to  be  chosen 
which  is  best  adapted  to  the  purpose  of  the  writing, 
but  it  requires  that  all  the  parts  be  determined  on  the 
same  basis. 

If  a  writer  should  present  a  tree  as  composed  of 
roots,  bark,  trunk,  woody  substance,  branches,  and  pith; 
or  the  human  body  as  composed  of  flesh,  blood,  nerves, 
muscular  tissue,  vital  organs,  adipose  tissue,  bones,  and 
the  mechanical  system,  using  two  or  more  bases  of 
division,  utter  confusion  would  arise  in  the  mind  of  the 
interpreter.  The  division  should  be  such  as  could  be 
made  of  the  actual  object.  The  tree  can  be  actually 
parted  into  root,  trunk,  and  branches,  and  each  part 
put  in  a  different  place.  So  with  bark,  woody  sub- 
stance, and  pith.  But  if  one  should  attempt  to  make 
an  actual  division  of  the  tree  on  both  bases  at  once,  he 
would  have  a  practical  illustration  of  what  the  law  of 
unity  means  in  requiring  the  division  to  be  made  on 
the  same  basis. 

And  further,  the  mind  can  organize  the  parts  into 
unity  readily 

2.  When  the  parts  are  named  in  the  order  determined 
by  the  basis. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  79 

If  ignorant  of  a  tree,  as  the  recipient  in  a  description 
is  supposed  to  be,  to  present  the  parts  as  roots,  leaves, 
trunk,  and  branches  would  cause  the  mind  to  form  an 
object  wholly  different  from  the  one  to  be  described. 
The  basis  of  partition  used  determines  the  order  of 
presenting  the  parts.  It  is  not  necessarily  an  order 
of  nearness  in  space  or  succession  in  time.  It  may  be 
an  order  of  functional  relation.  When  the  basis  of 
division  is  that  of  space,  the  parts  must  be  named  in 
spatial  order.  When  the  basis  of  division  is  the  order 
of  observation  in  time,  the  parts  must  be  named  in  the 
order  of  occurrence.  When  the  basis  is  some  deter- 
mining principle,  the  parts  must  be  named  in  their 
functional  relation,  without  regard  to  their  position  or 
succession.  Thus  the  parts  of  the  eyeball  may  be 
named  from  without  inward,  or  from  within  outward, 
following  an  order  in  space;  or  following  the  operation 
of  the  law  of  optics,  there  would  be  an  entirely  differ- 
ent method  of  procedure, —  as  first,  the  retina;  second, 
the  crystalline  lens,  with  the  parts  about  it  which  aid 
in  refracting  light;  then  those  parts  which  regulate  the 
light,  followed  by  those  which  adjust  and  protect 
the  image-forming  parts. 

But  after  the  proper  basis  is  selected  and  adhered 
to,  and  the  parts  given  in  the  order  determined  by  the 
basis,  the  object  cannot  be  readily  and  correctly  unified 
except 

3.  When  all  the  parts  which  determine  the  basis 
are  named. 

To  present  a  tree  as  composed  of  trunk,  branches, 
and  leaves,  or  a  flower  as  composed  of  calyx,  corolla,  and 


80  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

pistil,  is  to  present  the  mind  with  an  incomplete  unit, 
and  therefore  a  violation  of  the  general  law  of  unity. 

Thus  the  basis  being  determined  by  the  purpose,  if 
all  such  parts  as  the  basis  gives  be  presented  in  the 
order  of  their  relation  as  determined  by  the  basis, 
the  mind  will  the  most  readily  and  correctly  organize 
them  into  the  unity  they  were  in  before  their  separa- 
tion in  the  process  of  presentation. 

The  process  of  description  may  now  be  presented 
in  one  view  by  the  following  outline,  which  forms 
a  general  scheme  for  all  descriptions.  Not  that  a  de- 
scription conforms  to  the  outline,  but  every  description 
moves  within  the  outline  as  modified  in  adaptation  to 
the  end  sought. 

The  object  to  be  described, — 

I.    As  a  whole,  by  means  of  its  attributes. 

1.  By  means  of  relations. 

a.  Purpose  and  means. 

b.  Cause  and  effect. 

c.  Time  and  space. 

d.  Likeness  and  difference. 

2.  By  means  of  properties. 

a.  Primary. 

(i)    Extension  —  form  and  size. 

(2)    Resistance  —  passive  and  active. 

b.  Secondary  —  color,  sound,  odor,  taste,  and  touch. 

II.    As  made  up  of  parts. 

1.  Analysis  into  parts  by  the  laws  of  partition. 

2.  Synthesis  of  parts  by  the  foregoing  attributes. 


the  thought  in  discourse.  8 1 

The  Process  Illustrated. 

Construction.  —  Suppose  we  choose  for  our  theme  a 
particular  human  eye. 

i.  The  primary  law  requires  that  we  fix  at  the  out- 
set a  definite  aim.  Let  this  be  to  instruct.  More 
specifically,  let  it  be  to  produce  a  full  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  object  chosen,  —  not  a  mere  picture 
or  general  conception  of  it.  This  presupposes  on  the 
part  of  the  hearer  or  reader  a  mind  so  fully  developed 
that  there  need  be  but  little  concern  about  adapting 
to  its  method  of  thought,  with  the  exception  that 
the  person  addressed  is  supposed  to  have  but  a  vague 
knowledge  of  the  object.  His  knowledge  of  the  eye, 
in  the  case  assumed,  is  not  sufficient  to  warrant  a 
strictly  logical  method  of  procedure. 

2.  That  the  law  of  unity  may  be  followed,  the  next 
step  is  a  statement  of  the  unifying  idea.  The  purpose 
being  to  instruct  under  the  conditions  named,  the  uni- 
fying idea  is  found  in  the  intellectual  relations  of  the 
object.  The  aim  stated  above  requires  us  to  choose 
the  highest  bond  of  union,  which  is  that  of  the  purpose 
of  the  eye. 

3.  The  third  step  is  to  present  this  eye  as  a  whole 
by  means  of  its  attributes,  under  the  laws  of  selection, 
completeness,  and  method.  The  attributes  selected, 
their  number,  and  their  arrangement  are  determined 
by  the  purpose  of  the  description  already  fixed,  and 
also  by  the  unifying  idea  chosen  for  the  eye  itself. 
The  attributes  must  be  united  into  the  whole  by 
showing  how  each  adapts  the  eye  to  its  purpose. 


82  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

4.  The  fourth  step  is  the  presentation  of  the  parts 
of  the  eye,  as  they  adapt  it  to  its  purpose.  This 
involves  two  steps  :  — 

a.  The  basis  on  which  the  eye  is  to  be  divided  must 
first  be  selected.  This  has  already  been  determined  by 
the  unifying  idea  chosen  for  the  eye,  —  namely,  that 
of  its  purpose.  The  parts  given  must  be  made  on 
their  fundamental  relation  to  the  whole.  The  purpose 
of  this  eye  is  to  form  an  image  so  as  to  produce  the 
sensation  of  vision.  The  relation  of  the  parts  to  this 
purpose  must  determine  the  parts  selected,  and  the 
completeness  and  method  of  their  presentation. 

b.  The  second  step  is  the  organization  of  the  parts 
into  the  whole  out  of  which  they  have  just  been  made. 
This  requires  that  the  attributes  of  each  part  must  be 
given  according  to  the  laws  for  presenting  the  attri- 
butes of  the  whole, — that  is,  that  all  those  attributes 
be  selected  which  adapt  each  part  to  its  use  in  the 
object,  and  that  they  be  presented  according  to  the 
general  law  of  presenting  attributes  of  a  whole. 

For  the  purpose  of  testing  our  description  by  the 
laws,  the  matter  may  be  formulated  as  in  the  following 
outline.  For  the  sake  of  brevity,  much  is  omitted 
which  can  readily  be  supplied.  Only  two  parts  are 
given,  leaving  the  others  to  be  filled  out  by  these  ex- 
amples. The  outline,  however,  is  sufficiently  full  and 
accurate  to  illustrate  what  an  outline  of  this  eye  should 
be,  and  what  is  better  than  a  full  description  for  test- 
ing the  organization  of  the  matter  under  the  laws  of 
thought. 

Purpose  —  an  organ  of  vision. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  83 

I.    Attributes  of  the  whole  adapting  to  the  purpose. 

1 .  Position  —  In  cavity  of  orbit  in  upper  front  part  of  head  ; 

thus  securing  (1)  range  of  vision,  and  (2)  protection. 

2.  Form  —  spherical;    thus   securing  (1)  ease  of    adjust- 

ment, and  (2)  firmness. 

3.  Size  —  about  one  inch  in  diameter.     (Why?) 

4.  Firm  and  hard,  to  maintain  the  proper  adjustment  of  parts. 

II.    Parts  of  the  whole  which  adapt  to  the  purpose. 
1.    The  outer  coat  of  the  eye. 

a.  Sclerotic  coat. 

(1)  Purpose  —  to  give  form  and  protection,  and 

to  furnish    means  of  attachment   for  the 
muscles. 

(2)  Attributes  adapting  to  its  purpose  : 

(a)  Position  —  external  posterior  part,  thus 

enclosing  the  other  organs  and  admit- 
ting light  in  front. 

(b)  Form — a  hollow  sphere,  with  an  ante- 

rior opening  to  admit  light,  and  a 
posterior  one  for  the  optic  nerve. 

(c)  Size  —  five  sixths  of  globe,  as  required 

by  openings  named  ;  and  one  twenty- 
fifth  of  an  inch  thick  in  posterior  part, 
but  thinner  in  middle  portion. 

(d)  Dense,  hard,  firm,  and  fibrous,  to  pre- 

serve form,  support  inner  parts,  and  to 
furnish  attachments  for  the  muscles. 

(e)  White  and  smooth  on  outer  surface,  ex- 

cept at  point  of  insertion  of  muscles  ; 
inner  surface  brown  and  grooved. 

b.  Cornea. 

(1)    Purpose  — 

(a)  with  sclerotic  coat,       protect  ; 

(b)  but  while  protecting  must  transmit  light  ; 

(c)  incidental  to  its  other  functions,  to  re- 

fract light. 


84  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

(2)    Attributes  adapting  to  its  purpose. 

(«)    Position — front  part  of  eye  continuous 

with  sclerotic  coat.     (Why  ?) 
(£)    Form —circular,    and    concavo-convex. 

(Why  ?) 
(c)    Size  —  one  sixth  of  outer  surface  of  eye, 

one  thirtieth  of  an  inch  in  thickness. 

(Why  ?) 
(</)   Hard,  dense,  fibrous,  unyielding.   (Why?) 
(^)    Transparent,  to  admit  light. 

c.  Choroid  coat,  and  ciliary  processes.     (Fill  out  as 

above.) 

d.  Retina.     (Fill  out  as  above.) 

e.  Aqueous    humor,    crystalline    lens,    and    vitreous 

humor.     (Fill  out  as  above.) 

2.    The  inner  parts  of  the  eye.     (Treat  as  the  outer  coat  is 
treated  above.) 

After  filling  out  the  remainder  of  this  outline,  it 
should  be  tested  systematically  by  all  the  preceding 
laws.  For  example,  under  the  law  of  method,  the 
reason  for  presenting  the  attributes  and  parts  in  the 
order  as  outlined  should  be  given.  The  parts  are  not 
presented  in  a  strictly  logical  order,  for  the  retina  and 
not  the  sclerotic  coat  is  the  functional  center  of  the 
eye.  And  that  the  work  of  the  retina  may  be  done, 
refracting  media  are  required  ;  and  these  again  call  to 
their  aid  the  light-regulating  parts  ;  and  the  whole  of 
the  image-forming  parts  require  protecting  outer  coats. 
The  retina  is  most  immediate  to  the  purpose  of  the 
eye  ;  and  each  part,  in  the  order  last  named,  is  removed 
in  that  order  one  degree  further  from  the  immediate 
purpose    of    the    eye.      Such    an    order  would  be    the 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  85 

strictly  logical  order  of  presentation,  but  this  would 
not  be  the  easiest  order  for  the  mind's  movement 
under  the  circumstances  specified  at  the  outset.  A 
strictly  logical  order  is  from  within  outward,  but  the 
mind  assumed  to  be  addressed  in  this  case  requires 
the  reverse  procedure, —  a  procedure  in  the  order  of 
observation,  which  would  be  first  an  observation  of  the 
external  coat  of  the  eye,  when,  removing  the  external 
coat,  the  next  coat  would  be  examined,  and  so  on  till 
the  retina  is  reached.  This  may  be  called  the  chrono- 
logical, as  over  against  the  logical,  order.  This  illus- 
trates clearly  how  the  two  factors,  mind  and  object, 
determine  the  method  of  procedure. 

The  other  laws  should  be  tested  as  above. 

The  end  sought  in  the  preceding  example  is  that  of 
instruction.  Suppose  the  end  be  changed  to  that  "of 
moving  the  will ;  for  instance,  to  induce  to  proper  care 
of  the  eye ;  what  change  would  be  made  in  the  fore- 
going outline,  in  respect  to  selection,  completeness,  and 
method  of  presenting  attributes  and  parts,  —  changes 
in  obedience  to  the  new  end,  and  the  new  unity  set  up  ? 
With  this  in  view  let  the  outline  be  rewritten.  Now 
rewrite  the  outline  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  poetic 
description. 

For  further  illustration  choose  an  autumn  scene, 
and  make  an  outline  of  it  for  the  purpose  of  mere  in- 
struction. Now  change  the  purpose  to  that  of  arous- 
ing a  sense  of  melancholy.  The  unifying  idea  will 
now  be  this  particular  feeling.  The  attributes,  ob- 
jects, and  relations  chosen  must  be  such  as  to  contrib- 
ute  to   this  effect,  —  must    be   unified   in   this    effect, 


86  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

with  which  the  more  fundamental  attributes  of  position, 
form,  size,  etc.,  may  have  little  to  do.  Sober  colors 
and  melancholy  sounds  fill  the  requirement  under 
selection  ;  and  these,  with  the  dull  objects  enumerated, 
are  presented  in  the  order  of  their  power  to  excite  the 
desired  emotion,  without  regard  to  their  logical  relation. 
The  precision,  rigidity,  and  fullness  of  the  preceding 
examples  would  here  violate  every  law  of  discourse. 

If  the  writer  desire  to  move  the  will,  the  means  of 
securing  unity  through  selection,  completeness,  and 
method  are  further  changed.  Then  he  must  select  as 
many  and  such  points  as  will  have  power  to  control 
the  choice,  and  present  them  in  such  an  order  as  will 
progressively  influence  to  action.  In  order  to  stir  the 
feelings  to  the  point  of  action,  the  writer  may  have 
to  delay  the  movement  with  otherwise  unimportant 
and  minute  details.  His  skill  will  be  measured  by  his 
power  to  hold  the  mind  in  contemplation  of  exciting 
details  and  stimulating  circumstances. 

Thus,  with  every  change  in  the  purpose  of  the  de- 
scription, there  must  be  a  change  in  the  means  of  secur- 
ing unity  through  selection,  completeness,  and  method. 
Purpose  in  the  intellect,  in  the  sensibility,  in  the  will 
requires,  respectively,  unity  in  thought,  unity  in  emo- 
tion, unity  in  volition;  and  in  each  case,  the  law  of 
unity  makes  a  different  demand  on  the  kind,  number, 
and  arrangement  of  attributes  and  parts. 

Interpretation.  —  Suppose  the  "  stronghold"  (a  coun- 
try home),  in  "  The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,"  be 
selected  for  analysis.  The  selection  must  first  be 
perused  to  find  the  purpose  of  the  author,  or  the  effect 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  87 

which  the  selection  produces  on  the  reader.  This  is 
the  reverse  of  construction,  for  in  this  the  attributes 
and  parts  selected  must  first  be  observed  in  order  to 
infer  the  purpose.  This  step  having  been  taken,  we 
are  ready  to  organize  the  description  under  the  pur- 
pose and  principle  of  unity  discovered,  which  may  be 
shown  as  follows  :  — 

I.  Purpose.  —  To  touch  the  emotions  for  their  own  sake,  spe- 
cifically, pleasure  in  contemplating  physical  comfort  and 
security. 

II.    Unity.  —  The  scene  in  its  attributes  and  parts   must  be  so 
presented  as  to  stimulate  this  particular  emotion. 

III.    The  Scene  as  the  author  presents  it. 

Purpose  of  Scene.  —  Physical  security  and  comfort,  given 
by  the  author  in  the  word  "  stronghold,"  as  if  a  defence 
against  an  enemy.  This  word  is  the  key-note  to  the 
selection. 

1.  Attributes  of  the  whole,  adapting  to  the  purpose. 

a.  Spatial  relations. 

(1)  Position  —  on  bank  of  the  Hudson.     (Rela- 

tion to  purpose  and  unity  ?) 

(2)  Form — a    recess,    "a    nook,"     a    nest-like 

place.     (Relation  to  purpose  and  unity?) 

(3)  Size  —  small.      (Relation    to     purpose    and 

unity  ?) 

b.  Qualities. 

(1)  Sheltered.     (Relation  to  purpose  and  unity?) 

(2)  Fertile.     (Relation   to  purpose  and  unity?) 

(3)  Green.     (Relation  to  purpose  and  unity  ?) 

2.  Parts  with  their  attributes  which  adapt  to  the  purpose. 
a.    The  broad  branching  elm  making  shade  ;  spring  of 

softest  and  sweetest  water;  sparkling  rivulet;  bub- 
bling brook.  Each  object  with  its  attribute  sug- 
gesting comfort  and  pleasure. 


88  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

b.  The    barnyard  —  the    barn,  large   and  bursting  with 

treasures  ;  constant  sound  of  flail  ;  lively  swallows 
and  martins,  and  pigeons  enjoying  sunshine;  un- 
wieldy porkers;  troops  of  pigs;  squadrons  of  snowy 
geese;  fleets  of  ducks;  regiments  of  turkeys;  guinea 
fowls  ;  chickens.  An  abundance  of  objects  with 
attributes  contributing  to  comforts  of  life. 

c.  The  house  —  spacious  ;  piazza  closed  in  bad  weather, 

under  which  flails,  harness,  utensils  of  husbandry, 
spinning-wheel  and  churn,  and  benches  for  sum- 
mer use  ;  the  hall  with  resplendent  pewter,  huge 
bag  of  wool,  quantity  of  linsey-woolsey,  ears  of 
corn,  festoons  of  apples,  peaches,  and  peppers  ; 
the  parlor  with  claw-footed  chairs,  mahogany 
tables  ;  irons,  shovels  and  tongs,  glistening  through 
asparagus  tops  ;  mock  oranges  and  conch  shells  ; 
strings  of  bird's  eggs,  a  great  ostrich  egg  ;  an 
open  cupboard  displaying  immense  treasures  of 
silver  and  china  —  taste  added  to  comfort  — 
refined  abundance. 

Purpose  and  unity  are  here  well  carried  out,  since,  — 

i.    Those  attributes  of  the  whole,  and  those   parts, 

with  such  attributes  of  each  part  as  cause  a  solid  sense 

of  comfort  in  living,  are  always  chosen,  thus  obeying 

the  law  of   selection. 

2.  Enough  of  such  attributes  and  parts  are  given  to 
produce  a  highly  wrought  feeling  of  the  kind  sought, 
thus  obeying  the  law  of  completeness. 

3.  The  elements  are  presented  in  the  order  of  effec- 
tiveness ;  and  also,  in  the  natural  order  of  observation. 
(1)  The  general  background  of  the  whole,  producing  a 
vague  sense  of  comfort ;  and,  also,  that  upon  which  the 
eye  viewing  the  scene  would  first  rest  ;  (2)  the  spring 


4- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  89 

and  the  tree  being  less  essential  to  physical  comfort 
than  what  follows,  but  prominent  to  the  eye  encom- 
passing the  scene  ;  (3)  the  barnyard,  the  raw  material 
of  comfort  in  abundance  ;  (4)  the  house  in  which  com- 
fort is  realized,  and  also  neatness  and  good  taste  are 
manifested.     Thus  the  law  of  method  is  followed. 

Exercises.  —  Skill  in  description  comes  from  much 
and  varied  practice  under  the  laws  above  set  forth. 
And  thus  too  will  come  a  fuller  realization  of  the  theory 
for  its  own  sake.  In  the  following  exercises,  whether 
of  construction  or  interpretation,  let  always  the  exact 
effect  to  be  produced,  and  the  conditions  under  which 
it  is  to  be  produced,  be  first  stated.  This  must  be 
followed  by  a  statement  of  the  unifying  principle,  after 
which  the  secondary  laws  are  to  be  systematically 
applied.  Let  it  be  noted  in  each  case  also  that  while 
the  law  of  completeness  must  be  obeyed,  a  descrip- 
tion consistent  with  the  purpose  must  be  as  brief  as 
possible. 

I.    Analyze  the  following  brief  descriptions:  — 

1.  "A  mild,  meek,  calm,  little  man." 

2.  "A  rough-looking,  sunburnt,  soiled-shirted,  odd,  middle-aged 
little  man." 

3.  "  A  mosquito  —  a  horrid,  pungent,  satanic  little  particle." 

4.  "  Randall  —  round-shouldered,  bulky,  ill-hung  devil,  with  a 
pale,  sallow  skin,  black  beard,  and  a  sort  of  grin  upon  his  face." 

5.  "The  blue  jay,  that  noisy  coxcomb,  in  his  gay,  light-blue 
coat  and  white  underclothes,  screaming  and  chattering,  nodding 
and  bobbing  and  bowing  and  pretending  to  be  on  good  terms 
with  every  songster  of  the  grove." 

6.  "  It  was  a  fine  autumnal  day,  the  sky  was  clear  and  serene, 
and  nature  wore   that  rich   and  golden  livery  which  we  always 


90  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

associate  with  the  idea  of  abundance.  The  forests  had  put  on 
their  sober  brown  and  yellow,  while  some  trees  of  the  tenderer 
kind  had  been  nipped  by  the  frosts  into  brilliant  dyes  of  orange, 
purple,  and  scarlet.  Streaming  files  of  wild  ducks  began  to  make 
their  appearance  high  in  the  air;  the  bark  of  the  squirrel  might  be 
heard  from  the  grove  of  beech  and  hickory  trees,  and  the  pensive 
whistle  of  the  quail  at  intervals  from  the  neighboring  stubble, 
fields." 

7.  "  He  was  tall,  but  exceedingly  lank,  with  narrow  shoulders, 
long  arms  and  legs,  hands  that  dangled  a  mile  out  of  his  sleeves, 
feet  that  might  have  served  for  shovels,  and  his  whole  frame  most 
loosely  hung  together.  His  head  was  small,  and  flat  at  top,  with 
huge  ears,  large  green  glassy  eyes,  and  a  long  snipe  nose,  so  that 
it  looked  like  a  weather-cock  perched  upon  his  spindle  neck,  to  tell 
which  way  the  wind  blew.  To  see  him  striding  along  the  profile 
of  a  hill  on  a  windy  day  with  his  clothes  bagging  and  fluttering 
about  him,  one  might  have  mistaken  him  for  the  genius  of  famine 
descending  upon  earth,  or  some  scarecrow  eloped  from  a  cornfield." 

8.  "  Brussels,  a  city,  capital  of  Belgium,  on  the  river  Senne,  27 
miles  S.  of  Antwerp;  pop.  (with  suburbs)  391,000,  or  about  two 
thirds  as  large  as  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  It  is  the  most  important  city 
of  Belgium,  and  one  of  the  finest  in  Europe.  It  was  once  sur- 
rounded by  walls,  but  they  have  been  made  into  broad  boulevards, 
lined  with  double  rows  of  shade  trees.  Brussels  is  noted  for 
splendid  public  buildings,  palaces,  and  churches,  and  its  libraries, 
museums,  galleries,  botanical  gardens,  and  observatory.  It  is  also 
famous  for  the  manufacture  of  Brussels  lace,  and  for  fine  linens, 
damasks,  jewelry,  porcelain,  and  glass." 

9.  "  Up  from  the  meadows  rich  with  corn, 

Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn, 
The  clustered  spires  of  Frederick  stand 
Green-walled  by  the  hills  of  Maryland. 
Round  about  them  orchards  sweep, 
Apple  and  peach  tree  fruited  deep, 
Fair  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord 
To  the  eyes  of  the  famished  rebel  horde." 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  91 

II.  Select  and  analyze  other  examples  which  flash 
quickly  but  vividly  beautiful  or  picturesque  objects  on 
the  mind.  In  the  daily  reading  mark  descriptions  of 
exceptional  merit. 

III.  Practice,  orally  and  in  writing,  impressing  viv- 
idly but  quickly,  pictures  of  objects,  having  fixed  in 
mind  the  purpose  and  the  conditions.  Analyze  the 
examples  thus  made. 

IV.  Present  the  following  by  merely  analyzing  each 
into  its  parts,  having  first  decided  on  the  purpose  and 
the  basis  of  division. 

1.  A  heart.  2.  A  door.  3.  A  watch.  4.  A  thermometer.  5. 
An  apple.  6.  A  house.  7.  A  ship.  8.  A  steam-engine.  9.  A 
human  body.  10.  A  bird.  11.  Greece.  12.  South  America. 
13.  A  landscape.  14.  A  school.  15.  A  literary  society.  16.  A 
legislature.  17.  Select  and  present  many  objects  quickly,  as  they 
appear  at  once  to  the  eye. 

V.  Present  the  following  by  comparison  and  con- 
trast, assuming  sometimes  one  of  the  pairs  to  be 
known  and  used  as  a  means  of  presenting  the  other 
which  is  the  theme,  and  sometimes  assume  both  to  be 
equally  well  known.  Sometimes  also  present  all  the 
likenesses  first,  and  then  the  differences,  and  some- 
times present  likenesses  and  differences  alternately. 

1.  An  orange  and  an  apple.  2.  The  Mississippi  and  the 
Amazon  rivers.  3.  Chicago  and  New  York.  4.  The  earth  and 
Jupiter.  5.  South  America  and  Africa.  6.  Demosthenes  and  Cic- 
ero. 7.  Washington  and  Lincoln.  8.  Grant  and  Napoleon.  9. 
The  government  of  England  and  that  of  the  United  States. 
10.  The  civilization  of  ancient  Greece  and  that  of  the  United 
States  at  present. 


92  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

VI.  In  a  more  elaborate  way,  having  chosen  a 
definite  purpose  and  specified  definite  conditions,  de- 
scribe the  following  objects  and  analyze  the  following 
descriptions,  making  outlines  as  that  given  for  the 
eyeball  and  the  "  Stronghold." 

i .  A  lead  pencil.  2.  A  penknife.  3.  An  apple.  4.  An  orange. 
5.  A  heart.  6.  An  umbrella.  7.  A  river.  8.  A  mountain.  9. 
A  ship.  10.  A  steam-engine.  n.  A  real  landscape.  12.  A 
scene  suggested  by  a  picture.  13.  An  imaginary  scene.  14. 
The  village  of  Grand  Pre",  in  "Evangeline."  15.  A  scene  from 
"  Snow  Bound."  16.  An  invented  scene  to  illustrate  private  life 
in  some  locality.  1 7.  An  invented  scene  of  sublimity  and  gran- 
deur. 18.  An  invented  scene  of  the  picturesque.  19.  An  invented 
scene  of  simple  beauty.  20.  Lowell's  description  of  the  brook  in 
"  The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal."  21.  Johnson's  description  of  the 
Happy  Valley  in  "  Rasselas."  22.  Mark  Twain's  description  of 
the  Coyote. 


NARRATION. 

Narration  is  the  process  by  which  one  mind  presents  to 
another,  through  language,  an  individual  as  changing  in 
time  —  as  having  successive  attributes  and  parts. 

Narration  and  description  are  alike  in  that  both  deal 
with  individuals;  they  differ  in  that  narration  presents 
the  individual  as  it  exists  at  successive  moments  of 
time,  while  description  presents  the  individual  as  it 
exists  at  a  single  moment  of  time.  Both  processes 
present  the  same  object,  but  each  presents  it  under 
different  relations.  Description  presents  it  as  a  whole 
with  its  attributes  and  parts  coexisting,  fixed  in  their 
relation  to  each  other  and  the  whole  —  the  statical 
relation;  while  narration  presents  the  object  as  a 
whole  with  its  attributes  and  parts  changing  in  time 
under  some  force  —  the  dynamical  relation.  Narration 
is  truer  to  the  object,  for  it  is  the  nature  of  things  to 
change.  Every  object,  in  "  fulfilling  its  own  nature, 
passes  out  from  its  own  nature."  Hence,  the  process 
of  narration  brings  us  more  closely  into  the  real  nature 
of  the  object  —  into  the  moving  force  which  is  its  life 
and  being. 

A  striking  contrast  between  narration  and  descrip- 
tion is  found  in  the  relation  of  each  to  language.  It 
was  observed  in  description  that  words  succeed  each 
other  in  time,  while  the  attributes  and  parts  of  the 
object  coexist;  and  that  language  is  not  so  well  adapted 


94  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

as  painting  or  sculpture  to  present  the  outer  unity  of  a 
fixed  object.  But  this  is  reversed  in  narration,  for 
words  follow  in  order  of  time  as  do  events;  and  thus 
in  narration  language  has  an  advantage  over  painting 
and  sculpture,  corresponding  to  the  advantage  which 
these  have  over  language  in  description. 

Narration  and  description  are  alike  in  their  primary 
laws.  While  the  leading  conception  in  description  is 
that  of  a  fixed  unit,  in  narration  it  is  that  of  a  changing 
unit.  Yet  the  object  must  still  be  presented  as  a  unit, 
and  the  law  of  unity  prevails  in  narration  as  in  descrip- 
tion. The  unity  is  found  in  the  changes  of  the  theme, 
and  the  problem  is  to  present  the  changes  so  that  they 
will  be  unified  in  the  object  narrated.  When  the  object 
is  presented  for  its  own  sake,  the  law  of  unity  is  found 
in  the  necessary  relations  involved  in  the  change;  but 
when  the  object  is  presented  to  please  or  to  move  the 
will  the  changes  must  be  unified  in  their  effects  to 
those  ends.  Thus  purpose  and  unity,  controlling  the 
thought  relations  under  which  the  theme  is  presented, 
are  the  primary  laws  in  narration,  as  they  are  in 
description. 

While  the  object  is  changing,  it  still  has  coexisting 
attributes  and  parts,  and  these  must  be  held  in  mind 
while  the  object  is  viewed  as  changing.  There  can  be 
no  conception  of  a  changing  unit  without  involving  the 
conception  of  the  unit  as  fixed  at  successive  moments 
in  the  process  of  change.  The  object,  at  any  mo- 
ment, must  consist  of  such  attributes  and  parts  as  were 
given  in  description.  At  this  moment  the  growing 
orange  consists  of  a  given  form,  size,  flavor,  odor,  and 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  95 

parts;  and  without  conceiving  these  as  coexisting  it  is 
impossible  to  think  the  next  change  it  may  undergo. 
An  object  cannot  be  presented  in  the  act  of  change. 
The  change  is  inferred  from  a  comparison  of  the  object 
at  a  given  moment  with  itself  at  a  succeeding  or  a  pre- 
ceding moment.  It  is  presented  to  the  mind  at  a  given 
moment  by  a  process  of  description,  and  then  at  the 
succeeding  moment  by  the  same  process.  It  thus 
appears  that  description  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
process  of  narration.  But  so  intent  is  the  mind  on 
the  changes  which  the  object  is  undergoing,  that  the 
descriptive  phase  of  narration  is  carried  on  uncon- 
sciously and  informally;  and  it  does  not  necessarily 
rise  to  the  rank  of  a  subordinate  process.  In  most 
narrations,  however,  there  are  prominent  descriptive 
parts,  many  of  which  are  of  great  length.  In  the  story 
of  one's  travels,  a  description  of  the  scenery  may  con- 
stitute the  larger  part;  yet  the  story  is  narration,  for 
the  scenery  is  given  to  present  the  changes  in  the 
traveler's  experience.  "Childe  Harold,"  as  a  whole,  is 
a  narration,  while  it  is  chiefly  composed  of  descriptive 
parts.  In  the  narration  of  a  battle,  it  is  necessary  to 
state  how  things  appear  to  the  eye  before  the  onset. 
Irving' s  story,  "  The  Widow  and  Her  Son,"  is  neces- 
sarily interspersed  with  distinct  descriptive  parts. 
This  element  is  so  prominent  in  some  narrations  that 
it  requires  a  second  thought  to  decide  to  which  class 
the  discourse  belongs.  This  cannot  be  decided  by  the 
relative  amount  of  space  given  to  description ;  but  only 
by  ascertaining  whether  the  writer  intended  to  leave 
the  impression  of  a  fixed  or  of  a  changing  object. 


g6  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

The  first  step  in  narration  is  that  of  presenting 

The  Change  as  a  Whole. 

It  has  already  been  observed  that  the  conception  of 
change  in  an  object  is  the  fundamental  conception 
in  narration.  The  idea  of  the  change  as  a  whole 
involves  the  following  conceptions;  and  the  presenta- 
tion of  these  conceptions  is  the  first  step  in  the 
narration  of  an  object. 

Purpose. —  A  conception  of  change  involves  the  idea 
of  end,  or  purpose,  which  the  change  is  to  accomplish. 
Purpose,  prompting  and  guiding  every  movement,  is 
both  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  every  movement. 
The  need  of  a  reaper  is  felt,  and  this  prompts  the 
purpose  to  satisfy  the  need  through  an  invention.  This 
purpose  institutes  a  series  of  changes  in  the  object  to 
meet  the  need  which  prompted  to  the  purpose.  Hence, 
it  may  be  said  that  purpose  is  the  moving  force  in 
a  series  of  changes,  and  that  in  narration,  as  in  de- 
scription, it  is  the  most  fundamental  thought  relation. 
Because  it  determines  and  explains  every  change,  it 
is  usually  the  first  relation  presented.  Even  when 
there  is  no  conscious  purpose  we  understand  that 
there  is  some  force  moving  to  an  end,  in  which  the 
moving  force  is  satisfied. 

Time.  —  A  conception  of  change  involves  also  the 
idea  of  time,  as  a  conception  of  attributes  and  parts  in 
the  fixed  object  involves  the  idea  of  space.  A  change 
cannot  take  place  except  in  time,  and  cannot  be  pre- 
sented to  the  mind  without  its  time  relations.     There- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  97 

fore  time,  answering  the  questions  when  and  how  long, 
is  one  of  the  fundamental  thought  relations  in  narration. 
Time  is  necessary  not  only  to  explain  the  relation  of 
each  event  to  every  other  in  a  series,  but  also  to  ex- 
plain the  entire  change  with  reference  to  other  events. 
An  event  in  history  may  be  accounted  for  by  its  rela- 
tion in  time  to  preceding  or  succeeding  events.  In 
fact,  it  cannot  be  explained  without  this  relation.  The 
relations  of  preceding,  succeeding,  and  during,  one  or 
all,  are  absolutely  essential  to  the  explanation  of  an 
event. 

Cause  and  Effect.  —  The  changes  in  objects  are 
produced  by  causes  ;  and  the  changes  themselves  pro- 
duce effects.  Every  conception  of  a  change  involves 
the  idea  of  cause  and  effect.  To  think  the  manufac- 
ture of  a  lead  pencil,  the  growth  of  a  tree,  the  devel- 
opment of  character,  or  the  progress  of  civil  liberty, 
requires,  as  an  element  in  the  conception,  the  forces 
operative  in  each  case  to  produce  the  changes,  and 
also  the  results  produced.  Therefore  the  ideas  of 
cause  and  effect  must  be  employed  in  the  narration 
of  an  object. 

Likeness  and  Difference.  —  Every  conception  of  a 
change  involves  a  comparison  and  contrast  of  the 
object  with  itself  at  a  preceding  or  a  succeeding 
moment.  This  relation  is  not  only  essential  to  the 
conception  of  a  change,  but  it  is  used,  as  in  descrip- 
tion, to  facilitate  the  thought  processes  under  all  the 
other  relations.  Well-known  events  may  be  used  to 
explain  events  under  discussion.  This  not  only 
shortens    the    narrative   process,    but    it    deepens    the 


98  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

impression.  For  this  reason  two  events  equally  well 
known  may  be  compared  and  contrasted  with  great 
advantage.  Changes  may  be  compared  under  all  the 
foregoing  relations  —  purpose,  time,  cause,  and  effect  ; 
and  also  the  parts.  Which  relation  shall  be  selected 
to  be  thus  presented  is  determined  by  the  purpose  of 
the  narration  as  a  whole.  Whether  two  battles  be 
compared  as  to  purpose,  time,  cause,  effect,  or  parts, 
is  determined  when  it  is  decided  whether  the  purpose 
is  to  instruct, —  and  what  the  grade  of  instruction, — 
whether  to  excite  the  emotions,  or  to  stimulate  to 
action.  The  law  of  purpose  and  unity  requires  such 
relations  to  be  chosen  in  the  comparison  and  con- 
trast as  will  best  accomplish  the  end  sought  in  the 
narration. 

The  second  step  in  narration  is  that  of  presenting 

The  Change  in  its  Parts. 

The  parts  in  narration  are  the  changes  which  con- 
stitute the  change  as  a  whole.  They  fill  out  the  time 
whole,  as  the  parts  in  space  fill  out  the  space  whole 
in  description.  This  is  the  most  prominent  relation 
in  narration.  Changes  thrust  themselves  on  the  at- 
tention. They  may  be  seen  and  heard,  in  most  cases, 
while  the  other  relations  reveal  themselves  only  to 
thought.  It  is  easy  to  picture  the  panorama  of  events 
in  a  battle  ;  but  the  causes,  results,  and  purposes  can 
be  ascertained  only  by  reflection. 

It  is  more  difficult  to  obey  the  law  of  unity  in  parti- 
tive  narration  than  in  partitive  description,  from  the 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  99 

fact  that  time  is  a  continuous  quantity,  while  a  space 
object  is  discrete.  Hence,  the  divisions  in  time  are 
more  or  less  arbitrary,  while  in  space  objects  nature 
makes  the  divisions.  The  shifting  of  a  dividing  line 
in  time  one  hundred  years  in  history  will  often  do  no 
violence  to  the  purpose  of  the  narration.  Because 
there  are  no  distinct  separations  in  time,  which  the 
mind  requires  for  convenience  in  thinking,  an  artificial 
system  is  adopted  ;  and  the  divisions  of  time  by  the 
calendar,  satisfying  in  the  sharpness  of  its  boundaries, 
stand  ready  made  to  cut  events  into  parts  of  definite  and 
convenient  length.  But  whether  this  arbitrary  exact- 
ness or  some  inner  moving  principle  be  adopted  as  the 
basis,  will  be  determined  by  the  purpose  of  the  narra- 
tion. If  the  history  of  England  be  narrated  to  show 
the  course  of  civil  freedom,  the  law  of  purpose  would 
be  violated  in  choosing  the  reigns  of  kings  as  the 
basis  of  separation.  This  is  a  proper  basis  if,  instead 
of  their  inner  life,  the  external  phase  of  the  movement 
is  desired.  For  common  purposes  of  narration,  the 
external  separation  of  events  by  some  accidental 
accompaniment,  as  the  above,  is  desirable  and  proper; 
but  for  the  highest  purpose,  those  phases  which  mark 
the  progress  of  the  moving  principle  in  the  realization 
of  itself  must  be  chosen  as  the  basis.  In  such  a  move- 
ment there  are  no  definite  boundaries,  and  to  make 
the  arbitrary  distinction  of  date  or  king  control  the 
presentation  is  to  do  violence  to  the  purpose.  The 
picturesque  phases  of  things  may  well  mark  the  divi- 
sions of  a  child's  history  ;  but  in  tracing  for  the 
mature  the  movement  towards  spiritual   freedom,  the 


IOO  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

division  must  be  made  on  the  basis  of  the  relation  of 
occurrences  to  that  end. 

Not  only  is  the  law  of  unity  difficult  to  obey 
because  the  parts  are  vaguely  and  indefinitely  marked, 
—  because  all  are  as  unfixed  and  restless  as  the 
waves  of  the  sea, — but  because  the  changes  are  infi- 
nitely complex  ;  and  yet  all  must  be  seen  as  organic 
parts  of  one  complex  whole.  When  there  is  but  a 
single  line  of  events  in  the  movement  the  law  of  unity 
presents  but  little  difficulty.  The  difficulty  arises 
when  there  is  a  complex  series  of  events  to  be  ex- 
hibited in  their  interrelations,  —  "  when  concurring 
streams  of  events  have  to  be  exhibited  as  contempo- 
raneous in  order  to  show  their  actual  relations."  In 
carrying  up  each  line  to  unite  it  into  the  general 
movement,  some  events  will  necessarily  be  named 
after  those  before  which  they  occurred.  In  the 
Revolutionary  War,  a  series  of  events  were  happening 
in  the  South  parallel  with  another  series  in  the  North  ; 
and  both  were  parts  of  the  same  movement.  Both 
series  cannot  be  narrated  at  once  ;  yet  that  they  are 
parallel  must  ever  be  kept  before  the  mind,  together 
with  the  purpose  and  cause-and-effect  relations  of 
each  to  the  other.  Especially  difficult  is  the  narration 
of  a  conflict.  The  narrator  must  be  careful  not  to 
shift  carelessly  from  one  party  to  the  other.  The 
movement  is  in  neither  party,  but  in  the  conflict 
between  the  two.  To  stand  above  this  conflict  and 
hold  steadily  the  attention  on  both  parties  at  the  same 
time  in  the  movement  is  the  requirement  of  unity. 
To    this    end    the    narrator    may    have    to    locate    the 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  IOI 

attention  in  one  party,  as  in  the  aggressive  one,  and 
hold  it  there  while  drawing  the  other  party  into  the 
movement.  If  the  attention  needs  to  be  shifted,  it 
must  be  done  so  that  the  reader  or  hearer  will  be 
aware  of  the  change. 

The  law  of  unity  further  requires  that  the  changes 
in  the  theme  be  presented  in  the  order  of  their  occur- 
rence—  in  the  chronological  order.  Sometimes  it 
may  be  desirable  to  violate  the  actual  order  of  events. 
Irving  introduces  the  reader  to  the  funeral  of  the 
"  Pride  of  the  Village,"  and  then  narrates  her  life. 
Thus  also  in  "The  Widow  and  Her  Son."  This 
method  serves  as  a  kind  of  introduction  to  enlist  the 
reader's  interest  in  what  is  to  follow.  But  in  such 
cases  the  writer  really  follows  a  chronological  order  ; 
for  he  presents  the  events  in  the  order  of  learning 
them. 

It  is  a  common  fault,  especially  in  ex  tempore  narra- 
tion, to  reverse  the  order  of  events,  even  when  there 
is  only  a  single  line  ;  thus  making  it  necessary  to 
correct  by  retracing.  The  movement  should  be  con- 
stantly forward  ;  otherwise  the  mind  of  the  interpre- 
ter is  kept  on  a  strain  readjusting  the  parts.  But 
when  there  is  a  large  complex  whole,  with  lines  run- 
ning parallel,  yet  related  to  each  other,  to  obey  the 
law  of  unity  requires  a  conscious  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  writer.  If  language  permitted  all  the  lines  to  be 
carried  along  together,  there  would  be  no  more  diffi- 
culty than  there  is  in  narrating  a  single  line  of  events. 
But  this  cannot  be  done,  and  the  only  question  is, 
How  far  shall  each  be  followed   up  before  another  is 


102  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

begun,  and  how  can  their  parallelism  be  indicated  ? 
Each  line  may  be  carried  through,  and  then  all  related 
into  the  whole;  or  one  line  may  be  followed  out  for  a 
short  distance,  and  then  dropped  to  take  up  another, 
fixing  the  relations  as  the  parts  progress.  Which  is 
better  the  circumstances  will  determine.  In  either 
case  the  reliance  must  be  in  a  firm  grasp  on  the  rela- 
tion of  the  parts  to  each  other  and  to  the  whole  ;  so 
that  whatever  course  is  pursued,  the  unifying  idea 
may  be  held  constantly  and  steadily  before  the  mind. 

The  foregoing  thought  movement  constitutes  a  uni- 
versal outline  for  the  process  of  narration. 

The. object  to  be  narrated:  — 

I.    As  a  whole  under  the  relations  of 

i.  Purpose. 

2.  Time  and  place. 

3.  Cause  and  effect. 

4.  Likeness  and  difference. 

II.   As  composed  of  parts. 

1.  Analysis  into  parts  by  the  laws  of  partition. 

2.  Each  part  presented  under  the  relations  of  the  whole. 

To  narrate  an  object  is  to  set  it  forth  under  these 
relations.  Which  of  them  to  choose,  and  the  order 
and  completeness  with  which  they  shall  be  presented 
are  determined  by  the  purpose  and  the  conditions 
under  which  the  effect  is  to  be  produced. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  IO3 


The  Process  Illustrated. 

Construction.  —  Suppose  we  are  to  construct  a  narra- 
tion on  the  subject,  "  The  Stamp  Act." 

1.  First  applying  the  law  of  purpose,  let  it  be  deter- 
mined to  give  definite  instruction  ;  not  simply  popular 
information,  but  accurate,  systematic  knowledge  of  the 
subject,  —  the  scientific  grade  of  narration.  Only  so 
far  here,  hov/ever,  as  necessary  to  illustrate  the 
process. 

2.  The  law  of  unity  requires  the  process  to  be 
bounded,  and  the  unifying  idea  determined  upon.  The 
time,  the  place,  or  the  means  to  the  changes  might 
be  selected,  but  our  purpose  requires  the  most  funda- 
mental unifying  idea,  —  namely,  that  of  the  purpose  of 
the  changes.  This  must  be  followed  by  the  relations 
of  time,  place,  cause  and  effect.  These  define  the 
process  as  a  whole,  as  conditioned  by  the  determining 
purpose. 

3.  Next,  the  parts  of  the  whole  must  be  given  as 
determined  by  the  relation  of  the  changes  to  the  pur- 
pose. The  parts  must  be  the  changes  in  the  one 
change  which  the  purpose  manifests  in  the  progress  of 
its  realization. 

4.  Lastly,  the  parts  must  be  shown  in  their  organic 
relation  to  the  whole  change.  This  will  involve  for 
each  part  the  thought  relations  under  which  the  whole 
process  was  viewed. 

Formulating  for  the  purpose  of  testing  the  process 
it  stands  thus  :  — 


104  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

i.  Purpose  of  the  Stamp  Act.  —  To  secure  a  revenue  from 
the  colonists  ;  to  make  the  colonists  help  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  government  of  England  because  it  had  helped  them 
fight  against  other  nations. 

2.  Time  —  spring  of  1 765. 

3.  Place  —  British   Parliament. 

4.  Cause. 

a.  Desire  to  establish  the  right  of  taxing  the  colonists. 

b.  Knowledge  of  the  disposition  of  the  colonists  to  resist 

any  attempt  to  collect  a  tax  in  the  ordinary  way. 

5.  Effect. 

a.  On  the  part  of  the  Americans. 

(1)  Made  them  want  representation  in  the  parlia- 

ment. 

(2)  Aroused  indignation  because  they  were  not  given 

representation. 

(3)  Colonists  refused  to  use  the  stamps. 

(4)  Expressed  their  indignation  in  many  ways. 

b.  On  the  part  of  the  British. 

(1)  Were  compelled  to  repeal  the  act. 

(2)  They  sought  other  ways  of  taxing  the  colonists. 

6.  Parts. 

a.  The  discussion  of  the  plan  of  taxation. 

( 1  )    The  necessity  of  the  revenue  from  the  colonists. 

(2)  The  belief  that  the  colonists  should    be    taxed 

without  the  consent  of  their  legislatures. 

(3)  The  advantages  of  putting  the  tax  in  the  form 

of  stamps. 

(a)  The  ease  and  certainty  of  its  collection. 

(b)  The  difficulties  of  resisting  its  collection. 

(c)  The  low  price  of  the  stamps. 

b.  The  passage  of  the  act.  (1 )  Time  ;  (2)  place;  (3)  effect. 

c.  Enforcing  the  act. 

( 1  )    Time. 

(2)  Place. 

(3)  Effect,     (a)  In  America  ;  (b)  in  England. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  IO5 

It  will  be  readily  observed  that  the  course  pursued 
is  true  to  the  purpose  of  writing  stated  at  the  outset. 
If  the  points  were  amplified,  as  they  should  be  in  a 
regular  treatment  of  the  subject,  the  reader  would  gain 
accurate,  systematic  knowledge  of  the  subject.  The 
intellect  would  be  informed,  rather  than  the  emotions 
aroused  or  the  will  moved. 

Unity  is  secured  by  choosing  the  adequate  unifying 
idea  of  purpose.  This  gives  a  definite  current  to  the 
movement  at  the  outset.  Unity  is  further  secured  by 
giving  the  space  and  time  boundaries  of  the  whole. 
Unity  is  further  secured  by  presenting  the  changes 
in  the  order  of  their  occurrence,  and  by  organizing 
each  change  into  the  whole.  The  relations  of  the 
whole  define  the  whole,  and  the  subordinate  parts  are 
shown  in  their  subordinate  relations.  Unity  in  this 
case  is  difficult  to  maintain,  for  there  are  parallel,  co- 
ordinate movements,  also,  coordinate  purposes,  times, 
places,  causes,  and  results.  This  difficulty  is  always 
found  in  narrating  a  conflict.  Each  of  the  parallel 
movements  must  be  kept  distinct  from  the  others,  and 
due  notice  must  be  given  when  the  attention  is  to  be 
transferred  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  coordinate 
relations  or  parts. 

Purpose  and  unity  are  obeyed  by  giving  all  the 
changes  in  the  series.  How  far  to  carry  out  the 
changes  into  minute  detail  can  be  determined  only 
by  a  more  specific  statement  of  the  purpose  and  the 
conditions. 

Let  the  purpose  in  the  above  example  be  changed 
from  instruction  to  emotional  experience,  and  the  use 


106  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

of  the  material  given  in  the  outline  would  vary  greatly 
from  the  above.  The  unifying  idea  would  then  be 
found  in  the  emotions,  and  logical  coherence  would 
be  largely  disregarded.  The  thought  relations  would 
be  left  incomplete,  the  matter  would  be  presented  in 
the  progressive  order  of  its  power  over  the  emotions, 
exciting  incidents  would  take  the  place  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  completeness  would  be  given  to  features 
now  only  touched  upon. 

Interpretation.  —  Let  the  selection  be  "  The  Miller 
and  His  Son,"  in  "  Aesop's  Fables." 

i.  The  purpose  of  the  selection  must  first  be  ascer- 
tained. By  a  perusal  of  the  selection  it  will  be  readily 
found  that  this  purpose  is  to  move  the  will,  - — to  cause 
the  reader  not  to  shape  his  conduct  to  suit  the  whims 
of  other  people.  At  first  thought  it  may  appear  that 
the  author  intended  only  to  instruct,  —  to  teach  the 
truth  that  he  who  tries  to  please  everybody  pleases 
nobody,  and  besides,  loses  something  himself.  But 
every  one  knew  this  before,  and  the  full  concrete  form 
in  which  he  presents  an  already  well-known  truth 
makes  it  clear  that  he  wishes  to  impress  a  lesson  to 
the  end  of  resolution  and  action. 

2.  The  example  by  which  the  writer  sought  to  ac- 
complish his  purpose  is  the  mind  of  the  miller.  This 
he  presents  as  changing  ;  hence  he  accomplishes  his 
purpose  by  means  of  narration,  but  by  the  narrating  of 
a  fictitious  event.  The  unity  of  the  theme  must  be 
found  in  the  changing  mind  of  the  miller.  The  other 
changes,  as  the  mounting  and  alighting  of  the  son  and 
father,  and  the  attempt  to  carry  the  donkey,  are  subor- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  107 

dinate  and  external  to  the  internal  changes  which  ex- 
hibit the  theme.  The  real  changes  are  spiritual  ; 
hence  this  belongs  to  the  class  of  spiritual  narrations. 
The  attention  in  reading  must  rest  in  the  series  of 
spiritual  changes,  and  if  the  writer  obey  the  law  of 
unity  he  must  hold  the  attention  to  the  spiritual  series. 
This  narration  may  be  tested  by  casting  it  in  the 
following  form  :  — 

I.    The  changes  as  a  whole. 

1 .  Purpose  (in  the  miller)  —  to  please  those  addressing 

him. 

2.  Place  —  on  the  road  to  market.     This  furnishes  op- 

portunity for  the  causes  of  the  changes. 

3.  Time  —  while  going  to    market.     This    furnishes  an- 

other opportunity  for  the  change. 

4.  Cause  —  the  miller's  desire  to  please  everybody. 

5.  Effect  —  pleases  nobody  and  loses  his  donkey. 

II.    The  parts  of  the  change. 

1.  The  miller  decides  that  his  son  ride. 

a.  Purpose  —  to  please  the  girls  addressing  him. 

b.  Cause  —  a  knowledge  of  what  the  girls  thought. 

2.  The  miller  decides  to  walk  and  that  his  son  ride. 

a.  Purpose —  to  please  the  old  man  addressing  him. 

b.  Cause  —  a  knowledge  of  what  the  old  man  thought. 

3.  The  miller  decides  that  both  shall  ride. 

a.  Purpose  —  to  please  several  who  sympathized. 

b.  Cause  —  a  knowledge  of    what  the  sympathizers 

thought. 

4.  The  miller  decides  that  he  and  his  son  carry  the  donkey. 

a.  Purpose  —  to    please    another   group    of   sympa- 

thizers. 

b.  Cause  —  a  knowledge  of  what  the  group  thought. 


IOS  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

This  outline  shows  at  once  that  unity  is  maintained, 
in  that  everything  is  subordinated  to  the  one  change  in 
the  miller's  mind.  And  this,  too,  obeys  the  law  of  pur- 
pose, for  it  is  the  impression  of  these  changes,  with 
their  results,  by  which  the  author  seeks  his  purpose. 
The  law  of  unity  would  have  been  violated  in  this  if 
the  physical  changes  had  been  made  prominent,  or  if 
there  had  been  a  confusion  of  the  two  lines  of  changes. 
The  author  has  kept  the  physical  changes  subordinate, 
since  he  presents  them  as  mere  signs,  or  effects,  in 
the  mind  of  the  miller.  In  making  the  analysis,  it 
would  not  have  been  true  to  the  selection  if  there  had 
been  given  as  the  first  happening  the  mounting  of  the 
boy,  etc.,  or  the  other  external  series  on  the  part  of 
those  addressing  the  miller.  In  the  analysis  of  every 
selection,  there  must  be  found  and  stated  in  clue  form 
its  unity  of  thought. 

Unity  is  further  secured  in  first  presenting  the  op- 
portunity for  causes  to  produce  the  changes  ;  and  then 
having  purpose,  cause  and  effect,  and  parts  follow  in 
their  necessary  order.  This  the  anaylsis,  if  true,  will 
properly  set  forth. 

Unity  to  the  end  sought  further  requires  that 
enough  changes  be  presented  to  accomplish  the  pur- 
pose, —  enough  to  show  that  the  miller  would  change 
to  please  anybody.  The  changes  are  invented,  and 
the  question  for  the  writer  was,  How  many  are 
needed  to  produce  the  desired  effect  on  the  reader  ? 
Four  changes  are  presented.  First,  the  change 
caused  by  the  girls,  who  sympathized  with  the  son  ; 
second,   that   made    by   the  old  men,  who  appreciated 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  IO9 

respect  for  old  age  ;  third,  the  change  caused  by  a 
miscellaneous  group,  whose  sympathy  is  touched  by 
the  effort  of  the  son  to  keep  up  ;  and  fourth,  that 
caused  by  the  townsmen,  whose  feelings  were  touched 
by  the  overburdened  beast.  What  each  caused  the 
miller  to  do  was  that  which  led  to  some  extreme,  and 
called  forth  rebuke  from  the  next  group  met.  Being 
moved  to  change  by  such  diverse  classes  of  people  and 
for  such  contradictory  reasons  makes  it  absolutely 
certain  that  the  miller  would  change  to  please  any  one 
for  no  other  reason  than  to  please  him.  Note  also 
that  each  decision  of  the  miller  was  more  foolish  than 
the  preceding.  This  continually  increases  the  strength 
of  the  impression  ;  otherwise  the  last  point  would  be 
useless,  and  the  law  of  unity  broken. 

Exercises.  —  I.  Treat  the  following  themes  as  wholes, 
either  by  construction  or  by  analysis,  as  the  case  may 
require  :  — 

I.  The  Civil  War.  2.  Paul  Revere's  ride.  3.  The  Boston 
Tea  Party.  4.  Johnson's  "  Rasselas."  5.  The  battle  of  Bala- 
klava.  6.  The  history  of  the  United  States.  7.  The  Norman 
Conquest.  8.  The  World's  Fair.  9.  The  conquest  of  Mexico. 
10.  The  Lisbon  earthquake. 

II.  Treat  the  following  by  partition,  being  careful 
to  note  whether  the  basis  chosen  is  in  harmony  with 
the  purpose,  and  whether  the  law  of  unity  is  main- 
tained in  the  partitions  made  on  the  basis  chosen:  — 

1.  The  manufacture  of  a  pen.  2.  The  writing  of  an  essay. 
3.  Whittier's  "  Snow  Bound."  4.  Longfellow's  "  Keramos."  5. 
The  history  of  slavery  in  the  United  States.  6.  The  American 
Revolution.     7.   England's  acquisition  of  territory  in  the   United 


IIO  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

States.  8.  The  formation  of  the  earth.  9.  The  building  of  a 
ship.  Also,  Longfellow's  "Building  of  the  Ship."  10.  The 
making  of  steel. 

III.  Set  forth  briefly  the  following  by  comparison 
and  contrast  :  — 

1.  The  settlement  of  the  Jamestown  and  Plymouth  colonies.  2. 
The  construction  of  the  Pacific  Railroad  and  the  Suez  Canal.  3. 
The  election  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  and  of  France. 
4.  The  manufacture  of  cotton  and  of  silk  goods.  5.  The  growth 
of  a  plant  and  an  animal.  6.  The  history  of  the  English  and  the 
American  governments.  7.  The  writing  of  a  discourse  and  build- 
ing of  a  house. 

IV.  In  a  more  complete  and  systematic  way,  defin- 
ing the  purpose  and  testing  by  the  law  of  unity,  con- 
struct narrations,  or  analyze  those  already  constructed, 
in  the  following  themes.      Make  outlines  :  — 

1.  The  circulation  of  the  blood.  2.  The  "History  of  a  Mouth- 
ful of  Bread."  3.  The  story  of  an  iceberg  :  (a)  to  instruct,  (b) 
to  touch  the  emotions.  4.  The  campaign  of  Burgoyne.  5. 
"  The  Wreck  of  the  Hesperus,"  by  Longfellow.  6.  "  King  Vol- 
mer  and  Elsie,"  by  Whittier.  7.  The  life  of  Franklin.  8.  The 
changes  of  the  seasons  :  (a)  to  instruct,  (b)  to  excite  the  feeling, 
(c)  to  move  the  will.  9.  A  grape  from  the  seed  to  a  raisin. 
10.  Political  freedom  in  England  and  America.  11.  A  story  in- 
vented from  a  picture,  to  awaken  pleasurable  emotions.  12.  A 
story  invented  to  move  the  will.  13.  The  story  of  "  Feathertop," 
by  Hawthorne.  14.  The  process  of  learning  the  science  and 
the  art  of  narration.  15.  "The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,"  by 
Irving.  16.  The  great  Spanish  Armada.  17.  The  story  of  a 
drop  of  water  from  its  change  into  vapor  in  the  ocean  to  its  re- 
turn, —  first  to  give  instruction,  and  then  to  address  the  feelings. 
icS.  The  Sepoy  rebellion.  19.  The  decay  of  Feudalism.  20. 
Shakespeare's  "  Hamlet."     21.   Holmes'  "  One-Hoss  Shay." 


EXPOSITION. 

Exposition  is  the  process  by  zvliich  one  mind  presents 
to  another,  through  language,  a  general  idea. 

The  preceding  processes  hold  the  attention  to  par- 
ticular individuals,  but  exposition  directs  the  attention 
to  the  unity  of  individuals  through  their  common  na- 
ture —  their  general  idea.  A  description  or  a  narra- 
tion of  individuals  may  be  made  for  the  purpose  of 
presenting  their  common  element,  and  this  is  exposi- 
tion. But  so  long  as  the  thought  is  organized  in  the 
individuals  as  such,  the  process  is  description  or  narra- 
tion. In  the  first  case  they  become  subordinate  pro- 
cesses of  exposition.  Exposition  may  also  be  a  subor- 
dinate process  in  description  and  narration.  Whenever 
there  is  to  be  described  a  complex  object,  as  the  earth, 
it  is  necessary  to  treat  the  classes  of  objects  on  the 
earth;  and  this  is  exposition.  In  narrating  the  history 
of  the  United  States,  there  must  be  an  exposition  of 
the  classes  of  colonies  that  were  established.  But  a 
description  or  a  narration  may  be  made  without  expo- 
sition, while  an  exposition  cannot  be  made  without  in- 
volving, in  some  way,  description  or  narration. 

It  has  already  been  shown  that  the  theme  in  exposi- 
tion is  a  unit,  a  whole,  consisting  of  parts;  as  is  the 
case  in  description  and  narration.  The  whole  is  the 
number  of  individuals  which  the  common  idea,  or  gen- 
erative activity,  binds  together,  or  brings  into  existence. 


112  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

As  we  have  seen,  a  certain  specified  energy  in  a  given 
form  of  activity  produces  individual  triangles.  The 
number  of  triangles  thus  produced  form  the  whole,  and 
the  individual  triangles  are  the  parts.  The  producing 
activity,  the  common  nature,  of  the  individuals  is 
called  the  content  of  the  class,  or  general  notion  ;  while 
the  number  of  individuals  thus  produced  and  thus  uni- 
fied is  called  the  extent  of  the  class,  or  general  notion. 
Thus  the  content  of  a  general  idea  is  the  sum  of  attri- 
butes common  to  a  number  of  individuals,  whose  sum 
forms  the  extent  of  the  idea.  The  content  of  the  class 
quadruped  is  the  sum  of  the  attributes,  sensation,  vol- 
untary motion,  vertebral  structure,  peculiar  nervous 
and  circulatory  system,  quadrupedal,  etc.,  including 
whatever  else  may  be  found  in  each  animal  of  that 
class.  The  number  of  animals  containing  this  sum 
of  common  attributes  forms  the  extent  of  the  class 
quadruped.  The  mind,  in  thinking  the  content  of  a 
class,  must  at  the  same  time  think  the  individuals  in 
which  the  content  finds  its  concrete  being,  —  must 
think  the  extent  of  the  class. 

The  content  of  a  class  determines  its  extent.  One 
bears  an  inverse  ratio  to  the  other.  If  the  class  ani- 
mal has  for  its  content  the  sum  of  the  two  attributes 
sensation  and  voluntary  motion,  and  a  third  attribute 
be  added,  say  warm-blooded,  thus  increasing  the  con- 
tent, the  extent  is  decreased  by  having  to  drop  from 
the  idea  animal  the  cold-blooded  animals.  With  each 
addition  of  a  new  attribute  to  the  content,  there  is  a 
subtraction  from  its  extent,  —  a  subtraction  of  the 
number  not  having  the  attribute  added.     Continuing 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I  1 3 

a 

this  process  the  richest  content  would  be  reached  in 
the  least  extent,  which  is  the  individual.  The  content 
thus  determines  the  class  whole  or  the  class  unity,  and 
the  first  step  in  exposition  corresponds  to  that  in  de- 
scription and  narration,  — namely,  the  presentation  of 
the  theme  as  a  whole  by  means  of  its  attributive 
content. 

The  Content  of  the  Theme. 

The  content  of  a  general  idea  consists  of  two  rela- 
tions —  the  universal  and  the  particular,  or  its  like- 
nesses to  and  its  differences  from  other  ideas. 

If  we  take  from  this  particular  book  all  the  attri- 
butes it  has  in  common  with  other  books,  or  in  com- 
mon with  any  other  class  of  objects,  we  have  destroyed 
our  thought  of  the  book.  If  we  should  take  from  the 
class  book  all  the  attributes  common  to  books  only, 
our  thought  of  book  is  likewise  destroyed.  Again,  if 
we  should  take  from  this  particular  book  all  the  attri- 
butes peculiar  to  it,  or  from  the  class  book  all  the 
attributes  peculiar  to  it  as  a  class,  we  have  destroyed 
our  thought  of  this  book  and  the  class  book.  Thus 
every  object  or  idea  has  its  being  in  the  union  of  the 
two  relations  of  particular  and  universal.  Therefore, 
exposition,  in  presenting  the  content  of  a  class,  or 
general  idea,  must  do  so  through  these  two  relations. 
These  two  relations  are  formally  presented  by  the  pro- 
cess of 

Defitiition.  —  Definition  is  the  process  of  presenting 
to  another  mind  the  content  of  a  class  by  a  statement 
of  the  universal  and  the  particular  truth  of  that  class. 


114  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

The  universal  truth  is  presented  in  definition  by  re- 
ferring the  class  to  be  defined  to  the  known  larger 
class  of  which  it  is  a  part.  Whenever  an  object  or  a 
class  is  said  to  be  in  a  larger  class,  however  small  the 
larger  class,  a  connection  is  established  with  the  uni- 
verse. To  say  that  a  noun  is  a  substantive  is  to  say 
that  it  is  the  arbitrary  expression  of  an  object,  and  to 
say  this  is  to  say  that  it  is  the  arbitrary  expression  of 
an  idea,  which  further  implies  that  it  at  least  is  the 
expression  of  an  idea.  Now  this  last  fact  is  true 
of  every  object  in  the  universe.  All  express  thought. 
Nothing  can  be  correctly  defined  without  connecting 
it  with  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  the  definitions 
which  have  power  to  the  student  are  those  in  which  he 
can  feel  his  way  back  to,  is  conscious  of,  the  universal 
element.  This  reference  of  an  idea  to  a  larger  whole 
is  only  a  concise  and  an  abbreviate  form  of  giving  the 
universal.  Otherwise  the  universal  elements  would 
have  to  be  enumerated. 

It  follows  from  what  has  been  said  that  the  larger 
class  to  which  reference  is  made  must  be  a  known 
class,  and  such  as  will  give  the  clearest  and  fullest  no- 
tion of  the  class  defined.  Reference  is  made  to  the 
known  class  to  abbreviate  the  process  ;  but  if  this  class 
need  explanation,  the  purpose  is  defeated.  For  the 
same  reason,  the  class  to  which  reference  is  made 
should  have  the  greatest  content,  and  therefore  the 
least  extent  of  any  class  to  which  reference  can  be 
made.  Reference  is  made  to  the  larger  class  to  save 
enumerating  and  explaining  common  attributes  of  the 
class  defined  ;  and  the  greater  the  number  found  in  the 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I  I  5 

larger  class,  the  greater  is  the  economy.  For  instance, 
in  defining  a  pronoun  it  may  be  referred  to  the  class 
words  or  to  the  smaller  class  substantives.  The 
choice  will  be  determined  first  by  which  is  better 
known  ;  second,  by  which  has  the  greater  content.  If 
the  substantive  has  been  previously  defined,  it  must  be 
selected,  because  it  contains  one  more  attribute  in 
common  with  the  pronoun  than  does  the  class  words. 
In  saying  that  a  pronoun  is  a  word  is  saying  only 
that  it  expresses  an  idea ;  but  in  saying  that  it  is  a 
substantive  is  saying  that  it  expresses  an  idea  of 
an  object. 

There  is  no  exception  to  the  rule  that  the  class  de- 
fined must  be  referred  to  a  larger  class  ;  yet  nothing  is 
more  common  than  for  statements  which  look  like  defi- 
nitions to  lack  this  quality  :  as,  "  A  preposition  shows 
relation."  Not  what  a  thing  shows,  how  it  looks,  or 
what  it  does,  but  what  it  is,  must  be  the  form  of  every 
definition;  what  are  its  connections  with  the  universal 
truth  out  of  which  it  springs. 

The  universal  truth  having  been  presented,  the 
truth  which  gives  to  the  class  its  particular,  separate 
being  must  follow.  This  truth  consists  of  the  sum  of 
the  particular,  but  common,  attributes  of  the  indi- 
viduals in  the  class  to  be  defined.  It  will  be  readily 
seen  that  these  common  attributes  which  bind  the  in- 
dividuals into  a  class  are  also  those  which  separate  the 
class- defined  from  the  whole  to  which  it  is  referred. 
If  these  common  attributes  had  been  found  in  the 
larger  class,  they  would  have  been  exhausted  in  the 
reference  to  that  class.      So  that  the  attributes  here  to 


Il6  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

be  given  both   unite   the  individuals  of    the  class    and 
separate  them  from  all  other  individuals. 

Summing  up,  we  have  the  following  rule  for  making 
a  definition:  — 

First,  present  the  universal  nature  of  the  class  by 
referring  it  to  the  smallest  known  class  of  which  it  is 
a  part. 

Second,  present  the  particular  nature  of  the  class  by 
stating  the  common,  essential  attributes  which  bind 
the  individuals  together,  and  which,  at  the  same  time, 
distinguish  the  class  from  the  whole  of  which  it  is  a 
part. 

Definition  being  a  statement  of  unity  among  indi- 
viduals, the  law  of  unity  here  is  exacting,  and  its  vio- 
lation can  be  definitely  detected.  This  law  requires 
that,  in  defining,  none  but  common  attributes  be  given. 
If  an  attribute  be  given  which  belongs  only  to  a  part 
of  the  class,  two  classes  are  presented  instead  of  one. 
For  instance,  "  A  verb  is  a  word  that  expresses 
action,  state,  or  being."  Action  does  not  belong  to 
all  verbs,  neither  does  state  or  being.  If  all  the  verbs 
of  the  language  be  taken  and  placed  before  us  in 
groups  as  the  foregoing  definitions  require,  there 
would  be  three  distinct  groups.  The  attributes  named 
in  the  definition  should  belong  to  each  and  every  verb 
in  the  language,  but  to  no  other  part  of  speech.  When 
it  is  said  that  a  verb  expresses  action,  state,  or  being, 
other  parts  of  speech  are  included,  for  other  parts  of 
speech  may  include  the  same  ideas.  But  if  it  be  said 
that  a  verb  is  a  word  that  asserts,  all  other  words  are 
excluded.      By  giving   an  attribute  which  extends  be- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  WJ 

yond  the  theme  defined  the  theme  is  not  unified  in 
itself,  but  is  unified  in  a  larger  whole,  which  should 
already  have  been  done  in  giving  its  universal  attri- 
bute by  reference  to  some  larger  whole.  A  definition 
must  unify  the  theme  both  in  itself  and  with  a  larger 
whole.  The  former  is  done  by  specifying  the  attribute, 
or  attributes,  which  unify  the  theme  in  itself.  And  in 
doing  this  the  mark  given  must  extend  through  all 
members  of  the  class  defined,  but  not  to  a  single  other 
object.  The  definition  must  be  neither  too  narrow  nor 
too  broad.  The  ultimate  test  of  every  definition  is 
whether  it  unify  the  theme  defined, — unify  it  both  in 
itself  and  with  a  larger  whole. 

Since  this  double  unity  of  the  class  is  through  its 
likenesses  to  and  its  differences  from  other  classes,  the 
class  as  a  whole  is  also  presented  by  means  of 

Comparison  and  Contrast.  —  This  is  a  double  process 
of  uniting  the  parts  of  the  class  into  the  whole,  and  of 
uniting  the  class  with  a  larger  whole.  This  process 
either  follows  and  explains  definition,  or  precedes  and 
prepares  the  way  for  the  definition.  In  the  order  of 
learning,  comparison  and  contrast  precedes  definition. 
Classes  can  be  formed  in  the  mind  only  by  comparing 
and  contrasting  the  individuals  which  are  to  compose 
it.  Comparison  and  contrast  is  the  initiative  process 
in  classification.  By  it,  the  likenesses  and  differences 
are  sifted  out,  and  thus  the  mind  arrives  at  the  unity 
of  the  class  in  itself,  and  its  unity  through  common 
attributes  with  larger  wholes. 

The  law  of  unity  in  comparison  and  contrast  re- 
quires the  choice  of  only  such  attributes  of  the  objects 


Il8  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

compared  and  contrasted  as  will  exhibit  the  common 
attributes  of  all  the  individuals  of  the  class.  This  law 
would  be  violated  if  in  comparing  and  contrasting  verbs 
with  prepositions,  verbs  should  be  contrasted  with  pre- 
positions in  the  fact  that  some  verbs  express  attributes, 
while  prepositions  do  not.  This  violates  unity  because 
the  verb  is  thus  divided  into  two  classes,  and  only  one 
part  contrasted  with  prepositions.  There  would  be 
the  same  violation  of  unity  in  saying  that  verbs  and 
adverbs  are  alike  in  that  both  express  attributes,  since 
only  one  class  of  verbs  do  so.  Therefore,  whenever 
two  classes  are  to  be  compared,  the  attributes  chosen, 
in  respect  to  which  the  comparison  is  made,  must  be 
common  to  all  the  individuals  of  the  class  in  which 
they  are  found. 

It  has  already  been  suggested  that  description  and 
narration  are  subordinate  processes  of  exposition.  They 
aid  definition  and  comparison  and  contrast  in  present- 
ing the  content  of  the  class.  In  this  service  description 
and  narration  present  only  such  attributes  of  the  indi- 
vidual as  are  common  to  the  class  to  which  the  individual 
belongs.  To  this  extent  in  exposition  these  processes 
are  modified,  and  when  thus  modified  are  called 

Exemplification.  -  -Exemplification  is  the  process  of 
exposition  by  which  the  content  of  a  class  is  presented 
through  one  or  more  individuals  of  the  class. 

The  class  steamship  may  be  presented  by  describ- 
ing the  "Great  Eastern";  suspension  bridges,  by  the 
suspension  bridge  across  the  Niagara  River;  patriotism, 
by  a  particular  example  of  the  virtue  in  Lincoln  ;  the 
class  triangle,  by  a  particular  triangle. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  119 

This  is  the  point  of  confluence  of  description  and 
narration  with  exposition,  and  at  this  point  it  is  some- 
times difficult  to  distinguish  between  them.  When 
describing  the  eyeball,  the  purpose  may  be  to  present 
only  what  is  true  of  the  class,  as  is  the  case  in  a  work 
on  anatomy.  Such  is  exposition  by  exemplification, 
and  not  a  description  of  the  individual  for  the  sake  of  the 
individual.  The  process  may  seem  identical  with  that 
of  the  description  of  the  capitol  at  Washington,  but  in 
the  first  case  the  process,  while  it  may  hold  the  atten- 
tion to  some  particular  eyeball,  the  end  sought  is 
knowledge  of  the  class,  for  only  that  which  is  general 
is  given  in  the  particular  ;  while  in  the  second  case, 
the  capitol,  with  all  its  peculiar  attributes,  is  presented 
for  its  own  sake.  The  capitol  is  not  given  as  an  ex- 
ample of  anything,  but  is  itself  the  thing  given. 

Exemplification  is  the  most  common  form  of  exposi- 
tion, because  it  has  the  advantage  of  presenting  the 
general  and  the  abstract  in  the  concrete.  Much  that 
is  usually  classed  under  description  and  narration  is 
exposition  under  the  guise  of  these  other  processes. 
The  novelist  seems  to  be  telling  the  story  of  a  par- 
ticular character,  but  he  is  always  expounding  general 
truth.  Shakespeare  narrates  the  events  in  Shylock's 
conduct  only  to  expound  the  profoundest  law  of  life. 
Hawthorne's  story,  "The  Bosom  Serpent,"  is  to  set 
forth  the  universal  effect  of  egoism  in  the  human 
heart.  When  Aesop  tells  the  story  of  "  The  Fox  and 
the  Grapes,"  he  is  revealing  the  universal  nature  of 
man.  When  a  particular  Australian  is  described  we 
may  expect  to  learn   of  an   unfamiliar  race,  but   a  de- 


120  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

scription  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  would 
probably  have  for  its  purpose  a  knowledge  of  the  Presi- 
dent. 

Thus  exemplification  presents  real  or  fictitious  ex- 
amples. The  fictitious  example  is  made  necessary 
from  the  fact  that  no  real  example  is  adequate  to  the 
ideal  content  to  be  presented.  The  real  content  or 
nature  of  a  thing  or  person  is  hampered  in  the  thing 
or  person,  and  to  present  the  real  thing  or  person 
would  necessarily  fail  to  present  the  ideal  and  poten- 
tial nature  of  the  class  to  be  expounded.  The  real 
world  of  individual  objects  does  not  adequately  reveal 
the  world  striving  to  manifest  itself  through  the  indi- 
vidual objects.  This  thought  introduces  another  and 
the  last  process  of  setting  forth  the  extent  of  a  general 
idea,  —  namely,  that  of 

Idealization.  —  Idealization  is  the  process  by  which 
an  individual  object  is  made  adequate  to  an  ideal  con- 
tent or  is  harmonized  with  a  universal  content.  We 
thus  arrive  at  the  peculiar  phase  of  exposition  which 
presents  ideal  truth  as  contrasted  with  matter-of-fact 
truth.  The  creative  imagination  now  takes  the  place 
of  the  logical  judgment,  converting  the  real  into  the 
ideal,  thus  gratifying  man's  craving  for  the  perfect, 
out  of  which  arises  poetic  truth  as  distinguished  from 
scientific  truth.  The  poet's  truth  is  created  by  the 
imagination  from  what  is  shadowed  forth  imperfectly 
in  the  real.  The  imagination  in  its  passion  for  the 
perfect  penetrates  the  object,  and  satisfies  itself  by 
adding,  subtracting,  and  rearranging  the  elements  until 
it  contemplates  the  perfect,  thus  realizing  the  truest 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  121 

truth.  Let  no  one  be  disturbed  by  the  statement  that 
fiction  is  truer  than  truth,  i.e.  matter-of-fact  truth.  Let 
it  be  emphasized  that  the  only  thing  fictitious  in  fiction 
or  poetry  is  the  individual  in  which  the  universal  truth 
is  embodied,  and  that  in  this  process  the  content  or 
meaning  becomes  more  real  because  there  is  a  closer 
approach  to  the  essential  truth.  Poetic  truth  is  not  to 
be  considered  airy,  fanciful,  and  unreal,  while  scientific 
truth  is  solid  and  substantial. 

Hence  the  poet  idealizes  to  give  his  theme  greater 
reality,  intensity,  and  power.  First  he  does  this  by 
omissions.  For  instance,  patriotism,  an  emotion 
suitable  for  poetic  purposes,  when  found  in  the  indi- 
vidual, has  elements  which  conflict  with  our  idea  of 
patriotism.  To  idealize  is  to  omit  them,  and  thus 
form  a  truer  and  a  more  pleasing  idea.  Love,  a  choice 
theme  of  the  poet,  does  not  receive  a  truthful,  in  the 
sense  of  true  to  the  real,  handling;  whatever  sensuous 
elements  are  found  in  the  individual  are  omitted  or 
toned  down.  The  real  pleasures  of  life  have  their 
alloy,  but  the  poet  strips  them  of  their  disenchanting 
element  and  we  revel  in  the  full  fruition.  We  hold 
the  poet  responsible  for  high  ideals:  his  power  as  a 
poet  is  largely  measured  by  his  power  to  idealize. 
Each  of  the  emotions  may  have  an  element  which 
clashes  with  our  ideal  of  that  emotion,  as  in  the  case 
of  love  with  its  gross  and  carnal  element.  Some  poets 
use  the  carnal  side,  but  in  doing  so  sin  against  the 
laws  of  poetry  and  fine  art  in  general.  Each  of  the 
emotions  arises  by  degrees  out  of  the  instinctive  sen- 
suous emotions,  and  carries  to  some  degree  the  lower 


122  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

elements  along  with  it.  Friendship,  in  its  earliest 
form,  is  instinctive  and  self-interested,  and  arises  by 
degrees  toward  the  ideal  of  a  pure  spiritualized  virtue. 
The  poet  must  give  each  emotion  freedom  from  disen- 
chanting elements,  that  it  may  find  a  response  from 
the  reader's  craving  for  the  ideal. 

Not  only  by  omissions  does  the  imagination  of  the 
poet  form  the  ideal,  but  by  additions  also.  "Excep- 
tional states  of  elation  "  are  made  the  rule,  and  what 
only  has  a  momentary  existence  in  fact  is  filled  out 
and  given  a  permanent  place  in  the  mind.  The  poet 
has  the  license  of  exaggeration,  and  may  exalt  the  emo- 
tion to  the  highest  power  of  imaginative  conception. 
Circumstances  may  put  limits  to  the  exaggeration;  it 
must  not  be  carried  to  the  degree  of  offensiveness,  for 
it  would  then  be  opposed  to  poetic  effect.  The  exag- 
gerations in  the  fictions  of  fairyland  and  mediaeval 
romance  are  pushed  to  the  limit  of  the  powers  of  the 
imagination  without  offending  proprieties  of  taste;  for 
they  are  understood  to  be  indulgences  of  the  imagina- 
tion, —  freedom  of  the  imagination,  —  sportful  moods 
trampling  down  the  laws  of  existence  for  the  pleasure 
of  its  own  free  activity.  When  traits  of  a  people  are 
to  be  idealized,  truth  must  be  respected;  but  in  the 
idealizing  of  the  spiritual  emotions,  such  as  love, 
friendship,  spiritual  joy,  philanthropy,  or  duty,  no 
danger  is  likely  to  come  from  the  strongest  effort  of 
the  imagination.  The  evil  passions  may  be  idealized 
as  well  as  the  virtuous  emotions,  but  in  this  case  the 
poet  adds  insult  to  injury,  unless  done  by  way  of  con- 
trast.    Any  degree  of  idealization  here  is  more  offen- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 23 

sive  than  the  actual,  either  because  it  produces  a 
stronger  stimulant  or  because  it  renders  more  decep- 
tive by  a  goodly  appearance  the  evil  communicated. 
The  laws  of  morality  take  care  of  this  offense.  The 
true  poet  needs  only  to  guard  himself  against  creating 
ideals  which  stimulate  expectation  which  cannot  be 
realized.  It  is  dangerous  to  create  ideals  out  of  all 
relation  to  actual  life  to  which  we  are  chained,  so  that 
one  breaks  with  his  conditions  and  desperately  and 
lawlessly  strives  to  realize  the  unattainable.  Ideals 
which  are  to  inspire  and  to  guide  must  not  create 
despair  or  stimulate  to  the  reckless  methods  of  hope- 
less attainment.  The  overstimulation  of  expectation  is 
only  less  dangerous  than  false  ideals  of  life.  Another 
form  of  dangerous  exaggeration  is  that  of  making  amiable 
and  desirable  certain  weaknesses  of  human  nature. 

The  imagination  selects  and  recombines  elements 
into  new  wholes,  thus  adapting  to  the  requirements  of 
taste.  As  the  parts  of  various  landscapes  may  be 
brought  by  the  painter  into  one  more  beautiful  than 
any  from  which  parts  were  selected,  so  the  poet  may 
select  from  various  characters  the  most  perfect  ele- 
ments and  recombine  them  into  one  more  perfect  than 
those  out  of  which  it  was  formed.  In  this  way  ideal 
characters  are  formed. 

The  Extent  of  the  Theme. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  extent  of  a  general  notion  is 
correlative  to  its  content;  either  implies  the  other. 
The   content,  or  germinant  idea,  must   pass    out  into 


124  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  diversity  of  individuals,  while  the  individuals,  to 
be  members  of  a  class,  must  inhere  in  the  unity  of 
a  single  principle.  It  is  only  a  difference  of  emphasis. 
One  emphasizes  the  unity  and  the  other  the  diversity 
of  the  theme  being  considered.  In  one  the  thought 
moves  from  the  individuals  to  their  unity,  in  the 
other  the  thought  moves  from  the  unity  to  the 
individuals. 

Classes  may  be  divided  continually  into  classes  of 
decreasing  extent  until  the  individual  is  reached,  thus 
moving  out  from  the  unified  conception  of  the  whole, 
as  given  by  the  foregoing  processes,  to  the  complete 
diversity  of  the  individuals  which  compose  the  class. 
The  greater  this  variety  the  richer  the  concept. 

As  the  leading  process  of  presenting  the  content  of 
a  class  is  definition,  so  the  leading  process  of  present- 
ing the  extent  of  a  class  is 

Division.  —  This  corresponds  to  the  process  of  par- 
tition in  description  and  narration,  inasmuch  as  it  pre- 
sents the  parts  of  the  whole.  Ultimately  the  parts  of 
a  class  arc  the  individuals  which  compose  it;  but  divi- 
sion does  not  present  the  individuals  as  such,  but  the 
species  and  subspecies  in  classes,  until  the  individual 
is  arrived  at.  Thus  division  is  like  partition  in  that  it 
presents  the  parts  of  the  theme;  it  differs  from  parti- 
tion in  that  it  presents  the  parts  of  the  class,  while 
partition  presents  the  parts  of  the  individual.  They 
are  further  alike  in  that  both  are  not  merely  processes 
of  separation;  both  processes  must  bind  the  parts  into 
the  unity  of  the  whole.  Each  part  must,  in  both  cases, 
be  unified  in  the  process  of  separation. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  125 

The  nature  of  the  process  requires  the  same  unify- 
ing idea  for  each  of  the  smaller  classes  into  which  the 
larger  class  is  divided.  It  is  unifying  the  individ- 
uals on  a  content  less  general  than  the  whole  class 
which  makes  the  divisions  of  the  class.  Hence  the 
basis  on  which  the  class  is  divided  is  also  the  basis  on 
which  each  subclass  is  united.  It  is  impossible  to 
unite  each  subclass  on  a  different  basis,  as  well  as  im- 
possible to  make  the  separation  on  different  bases. 
For  instance,  let  the  class  apples  be  given  for  subdi- 
vision. The  individuals  of  one  subclass  cannot  be 
bound  together  on  the  basis  of  color,  those  of  another 
on  the  basis  of  size,  and  those  of  another  on  the  basis 
of  taste,  etc.  Let  the  effort  be  made  with  the  actual 
apples,  and  it  will  readily  be  perceived  why  it  cannot 
be  clone  in  thought.  But  the  class  may  be  separated 
and  the  subclasses  united  on  the  one  basis  of  color,  or 
of  taste,  etc. 

Hence  the  law  of  unity  in  division  requires  that 
the  same  basis  for  separating  the  class  and  for  uniting 
the  individuals  in  each  subclass  be  used.  This  main- 
tains the  double  unity  of  the  whole  and  of  each  part. 
This  law  would  be  violated  in  dividing  man  into  men, 
women,  white,  brown,  black,  savage,  and  civilized.  It 
may  be  necessary  to  divide  the  class  first  on  one  basis 
and  then  on  another.  This  may  be  done  by  notifying 
the  reader  of  the  change  of  basis,  —  as,  on  the  basis  of 
sex,  man  is  divided  into  men  and  women  ;  on  the  basis 
of  color,  into  white,  brown,  and  black;  and  on  the  basis 
of  culture,  into  savage,  half-civilized,  and  civilized.  But 
each  division  on  the  new  basis  destroys  the  division  on 


126  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  preceding  basis.  Trie  mind  cannot  conceive  the 
race  as  divided  into  men  and  women,  and  at  the  same 
time  into  white,  brown,  and  black.  The  second  divi- 
sion necessarily  unmakes  the  first.  This,  however, 
does  not  violate  the  law  of  unity,  for  by  stating  the 
change  in  the  basis,  the  mind  is  notified  to  destroy  its 
old  division.  Thus,  without  violating  the  law  of  unity, 
the  class  may  be  divided  on  as  many  bases  as  the  pur- 
pose may  require.  Divisions  on  different  bases  give 
variety  and  wealth  to  the  concept.  What  basis  to 
choose,  and  whether  one  or  more,  is  determined  by  the 
purpose  of  the  exposition.  For  political  purposes,  the 
states  should  be  divided  on  one  basis,  for  agricultural 
purposes  on  another,  for  ethnological  purposes  on  still 
another.  For  some  purposes,  as  that  of  definite,  scientific 
instruction,  the  basis  should  be  an  essential  attribute 
of  the  class ;  but  for  giving  popular  information  or  for 
emotional  purposes,  the  basis  might  have  to  be  chosen 
from  superficial  and  sensuous  aspects  of  the  theme. 

Comparison  and  contrast,  and  exemplification,  aid 
division  in  setting  forth  extent  as  they  do  definition  in 
setting  forth  content.  The  subclasses  must  be  sepa- 
rated by  differences  and  the  individuals  in  each  sub- 
class united  by  likenesses.  Comparison  and  contrast 
is  the  formal  process  of  doing  this.  The  basis  of  di- 
vision determines  the  point  of  view  from  which  to 
determine  the  likenesses  and  the  differences.  Thus, 
too,  are  the  attributes  of  the  individual  to  be  given  in 
exemplification  determined. 

After  the  division  is  made  and  followed  by  compari- 
son and  contrast,  and  exemplification,  the  way  is  pre- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  127 

pared  for  a  new  definition,  for  each  subclass  becomes 
a  new  whole,  —  a  whole  just  as  the  first  class  in  the 
process  is  a  whole,  yet  a  part  of  a  larger  whole.  Thus 
the  process  of  exposition  is  an  ever-recurring  circle, 
which  may  be  begun  at  any  point  and  which  will 
return  to  the  point  of  beginning.  The  process  may 
begin  with  definition  and  be  followed  up  by  comparison 
and  contrast,  and  exemplification,  until  the  class  as  a 
whole  is  clearly  bounded  and  connected  with  some 
larger  class.  But  examples  may  come  first;  these  be- 
ing described  or  narrated,  comparison  and  contrast  pre- 
pares the  way  for  definition.  This  latter  process  is 
the  order  of  learning — the  chronological  order,  while 
the  former  process  is  the  logical  order.  Which  shall 
be  the  method  of  procedure  must  be  determined  by 
the  purpose  of  the  exposition  and  the  condition  of  the 
mind  addressed.  After  one  or  the  other  of  the  forego- 
ing movements  has  been  made,  division  will  come  next 
in  order.  Yet  division  may  precede,  reserving  defini- 
tion for  each  of  the  subclasses.  Definition  must 
always  follow  division.  Besides,  exemplification,  and 
comparison  and  contrast  may  precede,  and  prepare  the 
way  for,  division,  instead  of  following  it.  In  fact,  all 
processes  move  together  until  by  necessity  of  formula- 
tion they  must  be  thrown  in  a  circle.  It  must  be 
noted,  however,  that  the  movement  is  always  back  and 
forth  from  the  individuals  to  the  common  principle 
which  constitutes  the  individuals.  This  is  the  unity 
sought,  and  the  foregoing  describes  the  necessary 
movement  of  the  mind  in  relating  the  two,  —  in  seeing 
diversity  in  unity  and  unity  in  diversity.     Neither  can 


128  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

be  seen  without  the  other.  When  the  emphasis  is  on 
one  the  mind  moves  in  one  direction,  and  when  on  the 
other  it  moves  in  the  other  direction. 

We  may  now  formulate  the  movement  in  exposition 
thus:  — 

The  General  Notion  to  be  Expounded. 

I.    The  content  presented. 

1.  By  definition. 

2.  By  comparison  and  contrast. 

3.  By  exemplification. 

4.  By  idealization. 

II.    The  extent  presented. 

1.  By  division. 

2.  Each  part  treated  as  "  I." 

The  Process  Illustrated. 

Construction.  —  Given  the  theme  "  Attributive 
Words." 

1 .  Let  the  purpose  be  to  give  instruction  —  defi- 
nite, scientific  knowledge  of  the  theme. 

2.  The  unity  of  the  individuals  in  the  class  is  found 
in  the  content  of  the  class,  and  this  is  set  forth  by 
definition,  comparison  and  contrast,  and  exemplification. 

Definition.  —  Attributives  are  words  which  express 
attributes.  The  universal  nature  of  attributives,  that 
they  express  ideas,  is  given  by  referring  them  to  the 
already  known  class,  words.  Thus  the  first  law  of  defi- 
nition, which  requires  that  the  universal  nature  of  the 
class  to  be  defined  be  presented  by  its  reference  to  the 
whole  of  which  it  is  a  part,  is  obeyed.     Let  it  be   ob- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 29 

served  that  this  is  the  smallest  class  to  which  it  can  be 
referred.  To  refer  attributives  to  objects  would  be  a 
violation  of  the  law  of  unity,  since  attributives  are 
more  closely  unified  with  a  smaller  known  class. 

The  particular  nature  of  the  class  is  given  by  stating 
what  is  expressed  —  attributes.  This  mark  of  attribu- 
tives uniting  with  the  mark  which  connects  attribu- 
tives with  words  forms  the  content  of  the  class 
attributives.  The  first  part  of  the  definition  —  refer- 
ence to  the  whole  —  presents  the  idea  of  a  symbol  ex- 
pressing an  idea;  the  second  adds  to  the  first  the  kind 
of  idea  —  attributive.  Symbols  expressing  attributive 
ideas  is  the  full  content. 

Unity  is  secured  by  the  choice  of  one  common  attri- 
bute, instead  of  choosing  two  or  three,  some  including 
one  part  of  the  class  and  some  another.  Suppose  it 
had  been  said  that  attributives  are  words  that  modify 
nouns  or  verbs,  and  are  used  as  predicates.  While 
this  is  true,  it  is  not  a  definition,  for  it  does  not  present 
the  nature  of  the  class  under  discussion.  It  is  not  es- 
sential to  the  nature  of  attributives  that  they  modify 
nouns;  if  so,  all  attributives  would  have  to  do  so,  which 
they  do  not  do.  Thus  with  the  other  two  marks  given. 
Besides,  instead  of  unifying  the  parts  of  the  class,  it 
distributes  them,  thus  violating  the  law  of  unity. 

Comparison  and  Contrast.  —  This  class  can  be  com- 
pared and  contrasted  with  only  two  others  —  substan- 
tives and  relatives,  for  these,  with  attributives,  consti- 
tute the  whole  class  called  words. 

Attributives  are  like  substantives  and  relatives  in 
that  they  express  ideas;  they  differ  from  substantives 


I30  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

in  that  substantives  express  objects,  while  attributives 
express  attributes  ;  they  differ  from  relatives  in  that 
relatives  express  relation,  while  attributives  express 
attributes. 

In  this  comparison  and  contrast,  the  same  mark  of 
distinction  is  kept  before  the  mind  as  presented  in  the 
definition,  thus  maintaining  the  unity  of  the  whole, 
and  further  impressing  the  content  of  the  class.  Let 
it  be  observed  that  this  process  in  its  double  form 
emphasizes  both  phases  of  the  content  —  the  universal 
in  the  comparison,  the  particular  in  the  contrast. 

Exemplification.  —  In  the  sentence,  "  A  timely  sug- 
gestion was  very  kindly  received,"  "  timely,"  "  kindly," 
and  "was  received"  are  attributives;  each  of  them  ex- 
presses an  attribute.  To  call  attention  to  the  fact  that 
"timely"  expresses  an  attribute  of  an  object,  that 
"  kindly  "  expresses  an  attribute  of  an  attribute,  and 
that  "  was  received  "  expresses  an  attribute  of  an  ob- 
ject and  also  asserts,  would  be  to  violate  the  law  of 
unity,  for  it  breaks  the  class  by  giving  marks  that  be- 
long to  different  parts  of  it.  None  but  the  mark  in 
each  word  which  belongs  to  the  class  as  a  whole  should 
be  given. 

Under  other  conditions  of  instruction  the  order  of 
employing  the  three  foregoing  processes  might  have 
been  reversed.  First,  several  words  of  this  class 
might  have  been  observed  and  described,  then  com- 
pared and  contrasted,  and  then  the  contrast  thus  de- 
termined presented  in  a  formal  definition. 

Division.  —  Next  the  content  of  the  class  must  be 
presented  by  the  process  of  division.     This  must  be 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I  3  I 

done  so  as  to  bind  the  parts  together  in  the  unity 
already  established,  -  -  that  is,  the  unity  of  the  class 
must  be  preserved  in  the  process  of  division. 

The  purpose  being  to  give  scientific  knowledge  of 
this  subject,  the  basis  of  division  must  be  the  most 
fundamental  attribute  of  the  class.  This,  as  stated  by 
the  definition,  is  expression.  If  there  are  subclasses 
they  must  be  made  on  the  basis  of  expression,  if  classes 
differing  in  this  respect  can  be  found.  If  not,  some 
lower  basis  must  be  used. 

Observing  many  attributive  words,  some  will  be 
found  which  express  attributes  of  objects,  others 
which  express  attributes  of  attributes,  and  still  others 
which  express  attributes  and  also  assert  the  attribute. 
While  attributives  are  united  in  what  they  express, 
they  are  separated  by  some  special  phase  of  that  ex- 
pression. Thus  there  are  three  classes  of  attributives: 
(i)  those  which  express  attributes  of  objects,  called 
adjectives  ;  (2)  those  expressing  attributes  of  attri- 
butes, called  adverbs  ;  (3)  those  expressing  attributes 
and  which  assert,  called  attributive  verbs. 

The  unity  of  the  class  is  here  maintained  (1) 
through  the  selection  and  use  of  one  essential  basis  of 
division  ;  (2)  through  the  giving  of  parts  in  the  order 
of  their  relation,  the  attributive  verb  being  farther 
removed  from  the  adjective  than  is  the  adverb  ;  (3) 
through  the  enumeration  of  all  the  parts  which  the 
basis  determines. 

This,  followed  with  a  treatment  of  each  subclass  as 
the  whole  was  treated,  completes  the  exposition  of  the 
class  attributives. 


132  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

However  elaborate  the  exposition,  the  above,  sim- 
ple as  it  is,  presents  its  universal  forms  and  laws. 
Whether  the  student  is  constructing  the  science  of  the 
adjective  or  of  the  animal  kingdom,  the  process  is  the 
same. 

Interpretation.  - —  Suppose  Whittier's  "  Maud  Mul- 
ler  "  be  selected  for  interpretation. 

1.  The  selection  must  be  read  carefully  to  ascertain 
the  purpose  of  the  author,  for  his  purpose  pervades 
and  controls  everything  that  follows.  The  purpose  in 
this  is  to  touch  the  emotions  —  specifically,  the  uni- 
versal regret  of  the  human  heart,  expressed  in  the 
words  :  — 

"  For  of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 
The  saddest  are  these  :  '  It  might  have  been.'  " 

2.  The  theme,  which  sums  up  the  unity  of  the  whole, 
is  the  emotion  of  regret.  The  theme  is  general,  not 
particular.  He  wishes  to  express  the  regret  in  every 
individual.      Hence  the  process  is  that  of  exposition. 

The  author  does  not  proceed  by  the  scientific  pre- 
cision of  logical  definition  and  division.  His  purpose 
not  only  does  not  require  this,  but  would  be  defeated 
if  he  should  thus  proceed.  He  follows  the  more  con- 
crete method  of  exemplification. 

He  chooses  two  examples  from  the  class  to  be  pre- 
sented—  Maud  and  the  Judge.  This  choice  enables 
him  to  emphasize  the  extent  of  his  theme,  and  yet  pre- 
sent the  extent  in  its  unity;  for  he  has  chosen  from  the 
extremes  of  life,  and  represents  each  as  passing  over 
to  find  happiness  in  the  conditions  of  the    other.     If 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  133 

such  regret  is  experienced  by  the  extremes  of  life,  it 
will  the  more  certainly  be  found  in  the  intermediate 
grades.  This  regret  arose  from  a  remembered  vision 
of  better  things  than  had  been  attained.  In  this  case, 
each  dreams  of  happiness  in  the  condition  of  the  other. 
To  give  to  this  vague  longing  of  each  for  the  condition 
of  the  other  specific  point  and  poetic  interest,  each  is 
represented  as  desiring  to  wed  the  other  —  to  become 
one  with  the  other.  This  desired  union  that  each  may 
secure  his  happiness  in  the  condition  of  the  other  is  a 
logical  necessity  of  the  situation.  Thus  the  author 
does  not  simply  present  the  extremes  of  life  in  order 
to  carry  with  them  the  intermediate  grades,  but  that 
he  may  express  a  phase  of  the  general  truth,  namely, 
that  each  individual  imagines  happiness  in  the  extreme 
of  life  farthest  removed  from  himself,  and  if  each  could 
lose  his  identity  in  the  other,  happiness  would  follow. 
The  bright  dreams  of  each  of  the  extremes  not  having 
been  realized,  and  regret  following  from  the  contrast 
of  the  after  life  with  the  dream  of  youth,  show  the 
universality  of  regret  arising  from  a  contrast  of  the 
ideal  with  the  real. 

The  exemplification  is  carried  on  by  the  process  of 
narration.  The  poem  appears  to  be  a  narration,  yet 
the  narration  is  subordinate  to  the  generalization, 
which  modifies  the  narration  to  the  end  of  exposition. 
The  changes  selected  and  the  method  and  complete- 
ness of  their  presentation  are  determined  by  the  gen- 
eral truth  which  the  changes  are  to  exemplify. 

a.  The  first  change  is  the  longing  and  the  anticipa- 
tion of    each  for  the  condition  of    the  other.     To  pro- 


134  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

duce  this  in  the  Judge,  Maud  is  pictured  in  beauty, 
health,  and  joy,  with  the  background  of  the  poetry  of 
haymaking.  This  further  serves  to  make  it  seem  un- 
wise for  Maud  to  long  for  better  things.  To  produce 
this  feeling  in  Maud,  the  far-off  town,  with  its  seeming 
busy  life,  and  the  Judge  with  his  wealth  and  life  of 
luxury,  are  brought  before  her.  This  serves  to  make 
it  seem  unwise  in  the  Judge  to  long  for  better  things. 
The  vague  longing  in  each  takes  the  form  of  a  definite 
wish  of  each  to  wed  the  other. 

b.  The  second  change  is  the  feeling  of  regret  on  the 
part  of  each  arising  from  the  contrast  of  their  real  life 
in  later  years  with  their  former  dreams  of  what  life 
might  be. 

In  this  narration  each  change  is  essential  to  illus- 
trate the  theme.  Only  two  are  given,  — joy  in  antici- 
pation, and  regret  in  retrospection.  To  have  chosen 
any  other  changes  in  their  lives  would  have  violated 
the  law  of  unity,  they  having  nothing  to  do  with  the 
purpose.  Unity  requires  the  changes  in  each  to  be 
given  simultaneously,  since  they  so  happen.  But  lan- 
guage will  not  permit  this.  Instead  of  tracing  each 
line  of  changes  through  separately,  unity  is  better 
maintained  by  giving  the  longing  of  one  and  then  of 
the  other,  and  the  regret  of  one  and  then  of  the  other. 
And  since  each  is  the  object  the  other  longs  for,  and 
since  the  regret  of  each  is  produced  by  a  remembered 
dream  of  the  other,  unity  is  as  perfectly  maintained  as 
if  the  changes  could  be  related  in  parallel  lines. 

Exercises.  —  I.  Construct,  analyze,  and  test  defini- 
tions of  the  following:  — 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  135 

I.  A    sentence.       2.    A    table.       3.    A    house.     4.   A    church. 

5.  A  school.  6.  A  plant.  7.  An  animal.  8.  A  preposition.  9.  A 
phrase.  10.  A  factor.  11.  A  state.  12.  A  river.  13.  A  pyra- 
mid. 14.  Rhetoric.  15.  Discourse.  16.  Prose.  17.  Poetry. 
18.  Oratory.  19.  Description.  20.  Partition.  21.  Purpose  in 
discourse.  22.  Unity  in  discourse.  23.  Method  in  discourse. 
24.   Completeness  in  discourse.     25.   Definition. 

II.  Compare  and  contrast  the  following:  — 

1.  The  adjective  and  the  adverb.  2.  The  sentence  and  dis- 
course. 3.  Poems  and  orations.  4.  Monarchic  and  Democratic 
governments.     5.  The  Northern  and  Southern  colonies  of  America. 

6.  The  horse  and  the  ox.  7.  Plants  and  animals.  8.  Steamships 
and  railway  trains.  9.  Waves  and  ocean  currents.  10.  Planets 
and  satellites.  11.  Pyramids  and  cones.  12.  Spoken  and  written 
language.  13.  High  schools  and  colleges.  14.  Politeness  and  justice. 
15.  Professions  and  occupations.     16.  Vocations  and  avocations. 

III.  Exemplify  the  following  :  — 

1.  Exemplification.     2.  Politeness.     3.  Patriotism.    4.  Treason. 

5.  Design  in  nature,  using  the  heart.  6.  Egyptian  art,  using  the 
Great  Pyramid.  7.  Roman  manners  and  customs,  by  a  descrip- 
tion of  an  imaginary  family.  8.  What  general  truth  does  the 
story  of  the  Prodigal  Son  exemplify  ?  The  parable  of  the  Sower  ? 
9.  Point  out  in  text-books  and  in  literature  many  examples  of  ex- 
emplification. 

IV.  Treat  the  following  themes  by  the  process  of 
division :  — 

1.   Rivers.       2.  Winds.       3.   Ships.       4.  Firearms.     5.  Books. 

6.  Orators.  7.  Ministers.  8.  Teachers.  9.  Religions.  10. 
Governments.  11.  Languages.  12.  Arts.  13.  The  senses.  14. 
Schools.  15.  Sentences.  16.  Parts  of  speech.  17.  Activities 
of  the  mind.  18.  The  pupils  in  your  school.  19.  Money.  20. 
Commerce.  21.  Man.  22.  Nations.  23.  Select  and  test  by  the 
laws  examples  of  division  found  in  text-books. 


136  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

V.  Write  complete  expositions  of  the  following  or 
analyze  those  already  constructed.  Note  what  proc- 
esses are  employed,  and  whether  the  law  of  unity  is 
obeyed. 

1.  The  noun  —  either  a  construction  or  a  criticism  of  the  ex- 
position in  some  text-book.  2.  The  planets — construction  or 
analysis.  3.  A  criticism  of  this  chapter  by  the  laws  developed  in 
it.  4.  Friendship,  as  found  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice  "  or  in 
"  The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish."  5.  Grammar,  as  treated  by 
some  particular  text.     6.  Orations. 


ARGUMENTATION. 

Argumentation  is  the  process  by  which  one  mind  pre- 
sents to  another  the  connection  between  some  concrete 
individual  fact  and  the  general  principle  which  deter- 
mines that  fact. 

We  have  already  seen  that  a  general  idea  or  force 
or  principle  produces  individual  objects,  and  that  ex- 
position presents  the  unity  of  individuals  in  the  gen- 
eral. Argumentation  seeks  to  establish  the  unity 
which  exposition  assumes.  To  expound  ocean  cur- 
rents is  to  exhibit  a  connection  between  the  individual 
currents  and  a  common  nature  or  principle  which  gen- 
erates them,  when  such  connection  is  supposed  to  be 
established  and  unquestioned.  But  to  argue  touching 
the  same  subject-matter  is  to  strive  to  establish  such 
connection.  In  all  argumentation  a  relation  of  unity 
is  under  question.  Hence,  while  in  exposition  the 
starting-point  is  a  concept,  in  argumentation  the  start- 
ing-point is  a  judgment. 

A  judgment  is  the  decision  of  the  mind  in  regard  to 
the  unity  between  some  particular  object  and  a  gen- 
eral truth.  The  relation  of  a  general  idea  to  some 
concrete  reality,  affirmed  or  denied  as  actual,  is  the 
world's  battle  ground  of  thought  and  arms.  To  say  "  a 
beautiful  landscape  "  or  "  developing  man  "  presents  a 
general  conception  which  challenges  neither  denial  nor 
support.      But  if  it  be  said,  The  landscape  is  beautiful 


I38  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

or  Man  has  developed  from  a  monkey,  we  have  at 
once  entered  the  arena.  The  moment  we  establish  a 
relation  and  make  an  assertion,  we  become  personally 
responsible.  The  tree,  the  planets,  government,  com- 
merce, are  not  ours  ;  we  may  only  think  them.  But 
the  relations  we  establish  are  our  relations;  we  our- 
selves give  the  sanction  of  our  thought  and  identify 
our  lives  with  the  relation  established.  For  this  rea- 
son argumentation  enters  so  largely  into  the  affairs  of 
men.  In  social,  industrial,  or  political  life,  man  regu- 
lates his  conduct  by  the  relation  of  truth  to  things,  and 
this  relation  each  establishes  and  asserts  for  himself, 
and  thus  brings  himself  into  harmony  or  conflict  with 
others,  accordingly  as  his  assertions  agree  or  disagree 
with  those  of  his  fellowmen. 

The  most  obvious  relation  involved  in  argumenta- 
tion is  the  same  as  that  in  the  other  processes, 
namely,  — 

The  Relation  of  Whole  and  Part. 

Argumentation  strives  for  the  unity  of  the  individ- 
ual and  the  general,  and  thus  unites  the  part  in  the 
whole.  In  arguing  the  mind  moves  from  the  whole  to 
the  part  or  from  the  part  to  the  whole,  accordingly  as 
the  one  or  the  other  is  the  known  term  of  relation. 
One  may  know  the  general  laws  of  planetary  motion, 
and  from  this  may  reason  to  some  new  fact  concerning 
an  individual  planet;  or  knowing  some  fact  about  one 
or  more  of  the  planets  may  reason  to  some  new  truth 
about  planets   taken  as  a  whole.      Either  from  a  knowl- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 39 

edge  of  the  whole  class  a  knowledge  of  a  part  is 
gained,  or  from  a  knowledge  of  a  part  of  a  class  a 
knowledge  of  the  whole  is  gained.  Thus  on  the  basis 
of  direction  of  movement  arguments  are  divided  into 
two  classes,  deduction  and  induction. 

Deduction.  —  As  the  word  indicates,  deduction  is 
the  downward  way  of  knowing,  as  induction  is  the 
upward  way.  Deductive  argument-  descends  from 
general  principles  to  particular  facts.  Some  known 
truth  of  the  whole  class  is  carried  down  to  increase  a 
knowledge  of  the  individuals  of  the  class.  The  known 
term  is  the  whole,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  part  is 
sought.  This  process  brings  the  part  into  further 
unity  with  the  whole  —  makes  a  more  complete  iden- 
tification. 

The  truth  of  the  whole  is  united  with  the  part 
through  an  intermediate  whole,  —  a  whole  which  in- 
cludes the  part  and  which  is  included  in  the  larger 
whole.  All  reasoning  is  the  unification  of  two  ideas 
through  a  third.  To  judge  is  to  connect  two  ideas 
directly;  to  reason  is  to  connect  two  ideas  indirectly 
through  a  third.  An  act  of  judgment  is  expressed  by 
a  proposition;  but  an  act  of  reasoning  is  expressed  by 
a  syllogism  which  means  a  "  reckoning  all  together." 
The  deductive  syllogism  stands  thus:  — 

All  apples  grow  on  trees; 
This  is  an  apple; 
Therefore,  it  grew  on  a  tree. 

This  syllogism  connects  this  apple  with  things  grow- 
ing on  trees,  through   the   intermediate  whole,  apples. 


I4O  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Apples  contain  the  attribute,  growing  on  trees,  and 
also  contain  this  apple.  Since  growing  on  trees  and 
this  apple  are  both  found  in  all  apples,  then  growing  on 
trees  must  be  found  in  this  apple  or  this  apple  must 
be  found  among  things  growing  on  trees.  This  sug- 
gests the 

Law  of  Deductive  Inference.  —  Conviction  is  carried 
by  deduction  through  the  axiom  that  whatever  is  com- 
mon to  the  individuals  of  the  whole  class  must  be  found 
in  each  part  of  the  class.  It  is  impossible  to  believe 
that  all  horses  have  four  feet  and  at  the  same  time  be- 
lieve that  there  is  a  horse  which  has  not  four  feet.  The 
law  is  that  if  the  whole  and  the  part  are  united  in  an 
intermediate  term,  one  may  be  affirmed  of  the  other; 
if  not  so  united,  the  affirmation  cannot  be  made.  If 
one  term  is  included  and  the  other  excluded  from  the 
intermediate  term,  then  one  may  be  affirmed  not  to  be 
the  other.  If  both  are  excluded  from  the  interme- 
diate term,  no  affirmation  can  be  made. 

Thus  reasoning  by  deduction  is  largely  a  matter  of 
imaging  the  terms  in  relation  to  the  term  through 
which  they  are  to  be  united.  For  instance,  using  the 
syllogism  before  given,  image  all  things  growing  on 
trees  ;  now  image  all  apples,  and  this  image  will  be 
found  to  fall  within  the  first  one.  Next  image  this 
apple;  it  will  fall  in  the  second  group.  Now,  since 
this  apple  appears  in  the  second  group  and  the  second 
group  falls  within  the  first,  there  can  be  no  mistake  as 
to  this  apple's  falling  within  the  first  ;  and  this  apple 
can  confidently  be  said  to  belong  among  things  growing 
upon  trees.      But  suppose  this  syllogism  be  tested:  — 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I4I 

All  apples  grow  on  trees; 
This  fruit  grows  on  trees ; 
Therefore,  this  fruit  is  an  apple. 

As  before,  picture  all  things  growing  on  trees,  and 
within  these  things  picture  all  apples.  Now  picture 
also  this  fruit  among  things  growing  on  trees.  While 
both  apples  and  this  fruit  are  among  things  growing 
on  trees,  this  fruit  need  not  be  pictured  as  among 
apples.  It  may  fall  outside  of  apples  and  yet  be  in- 
side of  those  things  which  grow  upon  trees,  as  cherries, 
peaches,  etc.  It  cannot  be  affirmed,  therefore,  that 
this  fruit  is  or  is  not  an  apple,  and  the  syllogism  proves 
to  be  false.  Thus  fallacies  are  readily  detected  by 
noting  whether  the  major  and  the  minor  terms  are 
united  in  a  middle  term. 

A  shortened  form  of  the  syllogism  is  used,  called 
enthymeme,  meaning  to  keep  in  mind,  one  of  the  judg- 
ments not  being  expressed.  Thus,  this  apple  grew  on 
a  tree  because  all  apples  grow  on  trees.  The  en- 
thymeme is  commonly  used,  it  being  expanded  into  a 
syllogism  only  for  the  purpose  of  testing  the  argu- 
ment. 

Induction.  —  While  deduction  moves  from  whole  to 
part,  or  from  principle  to  fact,  induction  moves  from 
part  to  whole,  or  from  fact  to  principle.  Some  apples 
are  observed  growing  on  trees,  and  it  is  inferred  that  all 
apples  grow  on  trees.  No  one  has  observed  all  apples 
growing  on  trees,  yet  that  they  do  so  grow  is  a  firm 
belief,  and  this  belief  came  from  observing  compari- 
tively  a  very  few  cases  of  apples  growing  on  trees. 
One  may  believe  that  all  crows  are  black  from  having 


142  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

observed   only   one,   and    having  tasted    one   orange  a 
notion   is  formed  as  to  how  oranges  taste. 

Thus  induction  ends  with  the  general  principles  from 
which  deduction  begins.  If  induction  has  not  estab- 
lished sound  principles,  deduction  lias  no  assurance  of 
safe  conclusions.  A  well-formed  deductive  syllogism 
admits  of  no  doubt  in  its  conclusion,  provided  the 
premises  are  well  established.  Because  of  the  con- 
vincing force  of  the  syllogism  in  itself,  the  mind  is  too 
often  satisfied  without  raising  a  question  as  to  its  foun- 
dation in  the  premises.  Deduction  cannot  increase  the 
certainty  of  truth  beyond  the  warrant  of  the  induction 
on  which  it  rests.  At  best,  it  can  only  be  said  that 
what  it  affirms  is  true  provided  something  else  is  true. 
The  ignoring  of  well-established  premises  and  relying 
on  the  precision  and  strength  of  the  deductive  syllo- 
gism is  a  leading  source  of  fallacy  in  argumentation. 
The  two  movements  of  induction  and  deduction  are 
but  the  two  arcs  of  a  circle,  which  begin  in  the  indi- 
vidual object  and,  moving  out  to  the  general,  return 
to  the  individual. 

Law  of  Inductive  Inference.  —  Conviction  through 
induction  is  based  on  the  belief  that  what  is  essential 
to  the  part  must  be  common  to  the  whole.  This  is 
based  on  our  faith  that  nature  is  an  organic^ ^systematic 
whole.  If  this  faith  were  removed,  all  induction  would 
be  impossible.  To  carry  on  an  argument  by  induction 
is  to  present  such  matter  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
the  strongest  appeal  to  this  faith. 

A  single  act  of  deduction  permits  no  further  discus- 
sion, but  a  single  act    of    induction    may  create  only  a 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 43 

probability.  What  the  single  act  lacks  in  convincing 
power  must  be  made  good  by  the  repetition  of  induc- 
tive acts.  At  first  thought  this  would  seem  a  very 
unsatisfactory  process  of  reasoning,  but  there  comes  a 
point  in  the  accumulation  of  examples  at  which  the 
feeling  of  probability  becomes  certainty.  The  number 
of  examples  given  may  range  from  one  to  complete 
enumeration.  Other  things  equal,  the  certainty  in- 
creases with  the  increase  of  the  number  to  the  point 
of  complete  enumeration,  wherr "absolute  certainty  is 
reached.  If  it  be  observed  that  each  state  has  a  public 
school  system,  then  it  is  absolutely  certain  that  all 
states  have  such  a  system.  But  this  is  generalization, 
and  not  induction  proper;  the  unknown  being  reached 
by  the  logical  judgment  rather  than  by  the  faith  of 
reason.  Induction  proper  does  not  reach  demonstra- 
tion. If  each  state  except  one  had  been  examined  and 
found  to  have  a  school  system,  it  is  still  possible  to 
think  that  that  one  has  no  such  system.  But  at  this 
point  induction  ceases,  for  if  the  last  one  had  been 
examined  there  could  be  no  room  for  the  exercise  of 
inductive  faith.  Induction  is  to  do  service  when  an 
examination  of  all  the  individuals  is  impracticable  or 
impossible. 

i.  Induction  from  one  example  is  called  analogy. 
An  object  or  a  class  which  resembles  a  known  object 
in  some  respects  will  be  expected  to  resemble  it  in 
others.  The  more  complete  the  resemblance  observed, 
the  greater  the  assurance  that  they  will  resemble  in  the 
point  under  question.  If  it  be  known  that  a  piece  of 
chalk  is  light,  white,  brittle,  and  can  be  used  to  make 


144  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

a  mark,  on  seeing  a  second  object  having  the  first  three 
marks,  the  presence  of  the  fourth  mark  in  the  second 
object  would  be  inferred.  If,  in  this  case,  the  sec- 
ond object  resembled  the  first  in  only  two  respects, 
as  lightness  and  brittleness,  the  tendency,  if  any,  to 
make  the  inference  would  be  much  weaker.  To  argue 
by  analogy  is  to  present  as  many  points  of  resemblance 
as  possible  between  the  known  and  the  unknown  terms 
of  comparison. 

The  number  of  attributes,  however,  is  not  the  safest 
basis  of  inference.  Much  more  depends  on  the  causal 
connection  in  the  points  of  resemblance.  If  a  strange 
animal  were  found  to  have  a  peculiar  structure  of  the 
skeleton,  it  would  be  safer  to  infer  that  all  of  the  class 
had  the  same  structure  than  to  infer  that  all  of  the 
class  had  the  same  color  as  the  specimen  examined, 
even  if  they  resembled  in  many  other  superficial  points. 
In  arguing  by  analogy  the  points  of  comparison  must 
be  shown  to  be  essential  to  the  object.  When  this 
cannot  be  done,  the  mere  accumulation  of  the  number 
of  points  of  resemblance  must  be  resorted  to.  If  it  is 
to  be  proved,  by  its  analogy  to  the  earth,  that  Jupiter 
is  inhabited,  the  accumulation  of  all  the  points  of 
resemblance  would  have  weight;  but  to  show  that 
Jupiter  is  like  the  earth  in  those  points  that  condition 
human  life,  would  be  far  more  convincing. 

2.  The  lowest  phase  of  induction  proper  is  based  on 
the  force  of  accumulated  examples.  The  first  orange 
observed  being  yellow  does  not  justify  the  assertion 
that  all  oranges  are  yellow.  But  by  repeated  observa- 
tions, the  mind  confidently  extends  this  attribute  to  all 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I45 

oranges,  and  does  so  without  perceiving  any  necessary 
connection  between  the  color  and  the  orange.  We 
believe  only  on  the  ground  that  if  there  had  been 
oranges  of  other  colors  we  should  have  chanced  upon 
them.  As  the  number  increases,  probability  grows  into 
certainty.  Not  that  this  ever  becomes  the  certainty  of 
demonstration,  for  the  opposite  of  what  is  affirmed  may 
always  be  conceived  ;  but  the  mind  rests  satisfied  in  its 
conclusion.  As  in  the  lowest  phase  of  analogy  the 
force  of  the  argument  is  in  the  number  of  points  of  re- 
semblance, so  in  the  lowest  phase  of  induction  the  con- 
vincing power  is  in  the  mere  number  of  examples. 

The  highest  phase  of  induction  seeks  a  causal  con- 
nection as  the  basis  of  inference.  The  more  funda- 
mental the  attributes  observed,  the  fewer  the  examples 
needed.  It  is  sometimes  impossible  to  discover  an 
essential  relation  of  the  attribute  under  question  to  the 
object  in  which  it  is  found;  as,  why  an  orange  is  yellow. 
In  such  cases  there  is  no  appeal  from  the  mere  force  of 
accumulated  examples.  But  in  most  cases  arguing  by 
induction  consists  in  pointing  out  the  essential  relation 
of  the  property  under  discussion  to  the  others  in  the 
examples  produced.  When  the  manner  of  the  working 
of  a  cause  is  obvious,  there  is  little  difficulty  in  the 
process;  as,  in  the  rain  wetting  the  ground.  We  see 
in  the  nature  of  rain  why  this  effect  is  produced,  and 
have  no  hesitancy  in  saying  that  rain  will  always  pro- 
duce this  effect.  The  relation  the  valves  sustain  to 
the  function  of  the  heart  is  easily  determined,  and  that 
all  hearts  have  such  parts  is  confidently  inferred.  But 
the  manner  of  the  working  of  a  cause  cannot   in  all 


I46  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

cases  be  detected;  as,  the  cause  for  a  tree's  growing 
more  rapidly  in  one  kind  of  soil  than  in  another.  We 
may  not  be  able  to  see  how  two  objects  are  connected, 
but  to  know  that  they  are  necessarily  connected  is  safe 
ground  for  induction.  The  difficulty  is  in  deciding  that 
there  is  really  a  cause  and  effect  relation.  Especially 
is  this  true  in  complex  phenomena,  for  in  this  case 
the  essential  is  entangled  with  the  accidental.  For  the 
methods  of  testing  the  presence  of  this  relation,  see 
Mill's  "Logic,"  pages  278-291. 

This  introduces  us  to  the  real  basis  of  all  argu- 
mentation,  namely,  — 

The  Relation  of  Cause  and  Effect. 

The  primary  reason  for  asserting  a  relation  between 
two  objects  is  not  that  of  whole  and  part,  but  that  of 
the  causal  connection  in  the  objects  themselves.  We 
have  seen  that  a  general  idea  or  force  produces  an 
individual,  and  that  it  is  this  connection  which  argu- 
mentation seeks  to  establish.  All  argumentation  rests 
at  bottom  on  the  connection  of  a  productive  energy 
in  the  phenomena  produced.  To  prove  that  a  certain 
word  is  a  noun  is  to  prove  that  it  arises  under  the  same 
mental  impulse  which  produces  other  words  classed  as 
nouns.  To  prove  that  the  free  coinage  of  silver  would 
improve  the  condition  of  the  country  is  to  find  in  free 
coinage  a  causal  energy  which  would  produce  the  effect 
affirmed. 

In  establishing  such  causal  connection  all  the 
thought    relations    previously   discussed    are  involved; 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I47 

for  the  causal  connection  appears  from  the  connection 
of  the  objects  that  the  judgment  connects,  which 
nature  is  disclosed  by  the  discourse  processes  already 
discussed.  Therefore,  all  the  preceding  processes  may 
be  involved  as  subordinate  processes  in  argumentation. 
The  greater  part  of  an  argument  may  consist  of  one  or 
more  of  the  subordinate  processes.  To  prove  that  a 
railroad  through  a  certain  part  of  the  country  would  be 
profitable  might  require  an  elaborate  description  of  the 
country  through  which  the  road  would  pass  and  of 
the  parts  to  be  connected.  To  prove  that  the  hanging 
of  John  Brown  was,  or  was  not,  good  for  the  country 
would  require  a  narration  of  the  preceding  and  the 
succeeding  events.  To  prove  whether  sponges  are 
animals  would  require  an  exposition  of  both  the  general 
ideas,  sponges  and  animals.  All  the  attributes  in  an 
object  which  bring  it  into  real  connection  with  another 
are  involved  in  giving  the  reasons  for  connecting  them 
in  a  proposition ;  hence,  the  constant  employment  of 
the  other  processes  in  argumentation.  But  argumen- 
tation pays  the  debt  in  becoming  a  subordinate  process 
in  each  of  the  other  processes.  In  a  description  of  the 
earth,  it  may  be  necessary  to  prove  that  it  is  round;  or 
in  narrating  a  course  of  events,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  prove  that  something  happened,  or  why  it  happened; 
or  in  expounding  the  idea  man,  it  may  be  necessary  to 
prove  that  he  has  certain  qualities. 

But  an  argument  is  something  more  than  the  explana- 
tion of  the  subject  and  predicate  of  a  proposition.  It 
must  show  why  one  is  affirmed  of  the  other  —  must 
present  their  causal  connection.       In    doing  this  the 


148  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

argument  must  start  from  the  cause  to  establish  its 
effect,  or  from  the  effect  to  establish  its  cause. 
This  fact  gives  rise  to  two  kinds  of  arguments, 
based  on  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect.  The  argu- 
ment which  moves  from  the  cause  to  the  effect  is  called 
an  a  priori  argument,  or  an  argument  from  antecedent 
probability;  the  argument  which  moves  from  effect  to 
cause  is  called  an  a  posteriori  argument,  or  an  argu- 
ment from  experience. 

A  Priori  Arguments.  —  The  a  priori  arguments  are 
arguments  from  cause  to  effect,  explaining  either  what 
has  happened  or  what  will  likely  happen.  Thus  we 
may  prove  that  with  the  increase  of  popular  education 
there  will  be  a  decrease  in  crime;  education  having  in 
itself  a  nature,  a  force,  a  cause,  such  as  to  produce  this 
as  an  effect.  That  a  certain  candidate  will  be  elected 
may  be  predicted  from  his  high  character  or  from  the 
principles  which  he  embodies.  That  prosperous  times 
are,  or  are  not,  produced  by  a  change  in  governmental 
administration  is  to  be  proved  by  determining  whether 
there  is  in  the  nature  of  the  case  a  sufficient  causae. 
Tourgee  urges,  in  his  "  Appeal  to  Caesar,"  that  there 
will  arise  trouble  with  the  South  from  the  cause  now 
present  — the  rapid  multiplication  of  the  negro  popula- 
tion. The  guilt  or  innocence  of  an  accused  person 
may  be  largely  established  by  the  a  priori  argument.  It 
is  difficult  to  convict  a  person  whose  character  is  such 
as  to  furnish  no  antecedent  probability  for  the  crime 
alleged.  If  the  man  accused  of  murder  is  shown  to 
have  hated  the  murdered  man  intensely,  and  would 
gain    great    riches    by    committing    the    crime,    there 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 49 

would  be  strong  motive  to  the  deed.  This,  how- 
ever, would  not  prove  his  guilt,  but  would  show  why- 
he  may  have  committed  the  murder.  To  give  such 
evidence  its  greatest  force,  it  must  be  shown  that 
there  is  nothing  in  the  accused  person's  character  to 
oppose  the  free  action  of  the  motive,  as  fear  of  the  law 
or  high  moral  character. 

Laiv  of  Inference  from  Cause.  —  Whenever  there  is 
a  known  cause,  its  full  effect  must  be  inferred,  provided 
there  are  no  hindrances.  When  there  are  hindrances, 
the  effect  is  decreased  in  proportion  to  the  hindrance 
to  the  point  of  prevention.  The  degree  of  probability 
depends  on  the  strength  of  the  cause  after  the  hin- 
drance is  overcome.  To  prove  the  absence  of  cause  or 
that  the  cause  is  neutralized  by  opposing  forces  is  to 
destroy  all  probability  whatever.  If  a  man  has  no 
motive  to  theft  or  is  confined  so  that  the  act  would 
be  impossible,  he  would  not  be  charged  with  such 
a  crime. 

Physical  causes  are  more  certain  to  be  followed  by 
their  effects  than  moral  causes.  The  warmth  of  the 
sun  and  the  moisture  in  spring  will  clothe  the  earth 
in  verdure;  but  whether  a  nation  at  enmity  against 
another  will  bring  war  is  not  so  certain.  In  the  realm 
of  volition,  so  many  and  so  complex  are  the  motives, 
and  so  many  of  them  hidden  from  view  to  all  except 
the  person  choosing,  that  the  connection  of  cause  and 
effect  cannot  be  ascertained  with  certainty.  If  all  mo- 
tives could  be  taken  -into  account,  the  resulting  effect 
in  action  could  be  as  certainly  inferred  as  the  effect  of 
a  cause  in  the  physical  world.     The  uncertainty  of  pre- 


I  50  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

vision  in  history  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  forces 
are  so  diffused  and  complex  that  their  result  is  difficult 
to  estimate  ;  besides,  there  are  many  latent  forces  in 
human  character  which  must  be  left  out  of  the  account 
altogether. 

A  common  fallacy  in  argumentation  under  the  law 
of  inference  from  cause  is  the  assumption  that  one  of 
two  or  more    effects  which    may  seem  to  have  equal 
connection   with   the   cause  is   the  effect   which  is  to 
follow.      Which  of  these  effects  will  follow  is  the  very 
point  in  question.     Or,  of  two  or  more  causes  which 
may  equally  well  account  for  the  effect,  one  is  assumed 
as  the  cause.     Which  of  these  is  the  real  cause  is  to  be 
proved  by  the  argument.       This  fallacy  is  called  "beg- 
ging the  question."     One  writer  may  urge  the  system 
of  landholding  as  the  cause  of  the  discontent  of  the 
country,  while  another  finds  the  cause  in  foreign  immi- 
gration, and  a  third  is  sure  that  railroad  monopolies 
are  responsible.      Each  assumes  one  cause,  and  finding 
that    it    tends    in    the    desired    direction,    expects    his 
readers  to  infer  it   to  be  the  sole  cause,  while  other 
causes  may  be  shown  to  bear  with  equal  force;  and  all 
of  them,  or  some  cause  fundamental  enough  to  include 
all  the  minor  causes,  might  be  a  better  basis  of  infer- 
ence than  any  one  presented.     Another  form  of  this 
fallacy  is  the  assumption  that  one  circumstance  is  the 
cause  of   another,  when  it  is  only  a  concomitant.     Sta- 
tistics are   presented    to    prove    that    illiteracy  is    the 
cause  of  crime;  while  both  illiteracy  and  crime  may  be 
common  effects  of   the   low  character   of  the  persons 
enumerated  in  the  statistics.       People  do  not  read,  and 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I  5  I 

it  is  observed  that  they  have  no  libraries,  and  the 
second  fact  is  thought  to  explain  the  first.  Yet 
the  absence  of  reading  and  the  library  may  be  con- 
comitant facts  of  a  common  cause;  as,  hard  manual 
labor,  sensual  indulgence,  sluggish  state  of  mind,  etc. 
A  fruitful  source  of  such  fallacies  as  the  above  is  the 
prejudice  of  the  one  who  makes  the  argument.  To  a 
greater  extent  than  one  is  consciCus  will  he  select  from 
probable  causes  the  one  which  he  desires  to  be  the 
cause.  The  heart  has  arguments  which  the  head 
knows  not  of.  A  bad  motive  is  generally  assumed  to 
explain  the  actions  of  those  to  whom  we  are  opposed; 
and  good  motives  to  explain  the  actions  of  those  with 
whom  we  agree.  No  candidate  for  office  expects  just 
inferences  from  the  opposite  party.  Even  the  philan- 
thropist, in  carrying  out  some  benevolent  enterprise, 
is  gratuitously  supplied  with  selfish  motives.  When 
many  good  reasons  will  readily  account  for  an  action, 
the  mind  is  too  often  determined  in  its  choice,  not  by 
the  careful  estimate  of  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect, 
but  by  the  wish  that  a  certain  motive  be  the  cause. 
The  President  may  favor  or  veto  a  certain  measure,  and 
his  course  be  explainable  by  a  desire  for  the  general 
good  or  for  some  selfish  gain.  Party  affiliations  will 
cause  one  party  to  praise  him  for  his  disinterested 
loyalty  and  justice,  while  with  the  other  party  preju- 
dice finds  in  the  position  taken  nothing  but  selfishness 
or  cowardice.  When  the  advantages  of  either  free 
trade  or  protective  tariff  are  to  be  proved  against 
the  other,  many  beneficial  effects  are  assumed  that 
could  as  easily  be  explained  by  other  conditions,  and 


152  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

which  would  be  so  explained  if  the  case  had  not  been 
prejudged  —  prejudiced  —  by  the  desires.  The  caution 
needed  here  is  that  in  estimating  an  argument  the  pre- 
judices of  the  writer  or  speaker  be  taken  into  account; 
and  that,  in  making  an  argument,  those  assumptions 
which  prejudice  intrudes  be  excluded.  The  remedy 
for  this  fallacy  is  to  love  truth  more  and  victory  less. 
The  man  who  wishes  to  be  really,  not  apparently,  suc- 
cessful in  debate  must  come  to  the  question  with  an 
earnest  desire  to  find  the  real  relation  of  cause  and 
effect  involved,  solely  for  the  sake  of  the  truth.  A 
debating  club  in  which  a  question  is  discussed  for  the 
sake  of  victory  is  not  conducive  to  that  attitude  of 
mind  necessary  to  effective  argument.  The  hypocrisy 
of  the  judgment  in  its  pretense  of  reasons  blinds  to  the 
real  reasons  when  engaged  in  an  actual  contest  for 
truth.  Much  of  the  so-called  drill  in  debating  is  only 
a  drill  in  fluency  of  words  and  deftness  in  manipulat- 
ing fallacies. 

A  Posteriori  Arguments. — These  are  arguments 
from  effect  to  cause,  explaining  why  something  is  or 
why  something  has  happened.  The  effect  is  known, 
and  the  cause  which  produced  it  is  sought.  In  the 
a  priori  arguments  known  causes  point  to  unknown 
future  events  or  to  some  known  effect  which  the 
known  cause  explains;  while  in  the  a  posteriori  argu- 
ments the  effect  is  known  and  the  cause  sought. 

Inference  of  cause  from  effect  is  based  on  the  differ- 
ent thought  relations  involved  in  thinking.  The  whole 
may  be  inferred  from  the  part;  the  substance  from  the 
attribute,  or  the  attribute  from  the  substance;    from 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 53 

likenesses,  other  likenesses,  or  from  differences,  other 
differences;  from  effect,  its  adequate  cause;  from  adap- 
tation may  be  inferred  purpose.  From  the  presence  of 
the  whole  of  a  steam  engine  certain  parts  may  be 
safely  inferred ;  or  with  a  part  of  it  present,  the  whole 
will  be  suggested.  The  attribute  yellow  being  present 
in  a  distant  field,  some  substance,  as  wheat  or  clay,  will 
be  suggested;  and  the  substance,  wheatfield,  will 
suggest  some  accompanying  attribute.  Likeness  in 
color,  form,  texture,  and  parts  of  two  kinds  of  fruits 
will  suggest  likeness  as  to  flavor  and  odor;  and  differ- 
ences in  the  first  respect  named  will  suggest  differences 
in  the  second.  From  the  moving  train,  the  steam  as  an 
adequate  cause  of  the  motion  may  be  inferred.  From 
the  adaptation  of  an  anchor  to  grapple  in  the  bed  of 
the  ocean,  the  inference  is  readily  made  that  some  one 
designed  it.  But  in  all  these  cases  the  inference  is 
based  on  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect.  The  adapta- 
tion in  the  anchor  is  caused  by  its  purpose;  that  in  the 
nature  of  the  fruits  which  caused  them  to  be  alike  in 
certain  respects  will  cause  them  to  be  alike  in  other 
respects;  that  which  usually  conditions  or  causes  the 
presence  of  the  yellow  color  under  the  conditions 
observed  is  still  the  cause;  and  whatever  there  is  in 
the  nature  of  the  engine  to  necessitate  the  relation 
of  whole  and  part  is  permanent  in  causing  that  re- 
lation. 

The  so-called  signs  and  resemblances,  so  often 
spoken  of  in  argumentation,  are  only  other  names  for 
effects.  The  tolling  of  a  bell  is  a  sign  that  some  one 
has  died;  but  it  is  a  sign  of  this  because  it  is  an  effect 


154  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

resulting  from  death.  A  weapon  in  possession  of  the 
accused  man  is  a  sign  that  he  is  a  murderer;  but  it 
is  a  sign  because  the  carrying  of  such  a  weapon  is  an 
effect  produced  by  the  intention  of  killing  some  one. 
The  bridge  is  a  sign  that  men  have  labored,  for  it  is  an 
effect  produced  by  such  a  cause.  Two  objects  resemble 
each  other  in  certain  respects,  and  reasoning  by  re- 
semblance, some  unknown  attribute  of  the  one  will 
be  like  some  known  attribute  of  the  other.  Yet  this  is 
reasoning  from  a  known  effect  to  a  cause,  for  it  is  a 
belief  that  whatever  caused  the  similarity  in  the  points 
observed  will  cause  it  in  the  point  with  reference  to 
which  the  inference  is  made.  Signs  and  points  of  re- 
semblance are  always  effects  of  which  the  cause  is 
to  be  inferred. 

Laws  of  Inference  from  Effect.  -  -  The  degree  of 
force  in  the  a  posteriori  argument  varies  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  causal  relation  on  which  the  inference 
is  based.  This  depends  on  (i)  the  number  and  com- 
plexity of  the  causes  which  may  produce  the  effect, 
and  (2)  the  efficiency  and  reality  of  the  cause. 

1.  A  cause  may  be  inferred  from  an  effect  with 
certainty  when  the  effect  is  such  that  only  one  cause 
can  produce  it.  We  may  argue  conclusively  that  the 
oak  is  produced  from  an  acorn;  that  steam  is  caused 
by  heat ;  that  the  burned  house  has  been  on  fire ;  there 
being  no  other  cause  for  each  phenomenon.  The 
train  is  moving,  and  steam  may  be  inferred  as  the 
cause;  but  not  conclusively,  for  there  may  be  other 
forces  moving  it,  as  men,  horses,  electricity,  gravity, 
etc.       When  there  are  many  causes,  either  of  which  or 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  155 

a  combination  of  which  may  produce  the  effect,  the 
inference  becomes  less  certain  as  the  number  and  com- 
plexity increase.  As  a  rule,  the  number  and  complexity 
of  causes  increase  in  passing  from  the  physical  to  the 
spiritual  world.  Especially  is  it  difficult  to  assign 
causes  to  social  phenomena,  so  manifold  and  subtile 
are  the  moving  forces.  And  nowhere  are  fallacies 
more  common. 

2.  In  an  argument  from  resemblance  a  cause  may 
be  inferred  with  certainty  when  the  resemblances  are 
essential.  On  the  ground  that  Caesar  was  selfish  and 
a  tyrant,  it  might  safely  be  inferred  that  another  ruler 
who  was  selfish  was  also  a  tyrant,  there  being  a  causal 
relation  between  selfishness  and  tyranny.  Glass  is 
transparent  and  brittle;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  be- 
cause water  is  transparent  it  is  also  brittle,  there  being 
no  essential  relation  between  transparency  and  brittle- 
ness.  In  such  cases  the  burden  of  proof  consists  in 
showing  that  the  rjo_LQls.-of--resemblance  are  so  related 
to  the  nature  of  the  object  that  they  are  constant 
marks  of  it.  This  may  be  done  by  establishing  directly 
a  causal  relation,  as  in  the  case  of  selfishness  and 
tyranny;  or  by  an  accumulation  of  examples  till  the 
uniformity  establishes  a  belief  in  a  constant  cause. 

Attributes  and  objects  are  so  often  accidental  ac- 
companiments of  each  other  without  causal  relation 
that  arguments  from  example  are  fruitful  sources  of 
fallacies.  The  immature  and  the  untrained  mind, 
in  their  tendency  to  hasty  conclusions,  generally  infer 
a  causal  relation  where  there  is  only  an  accidental 
existence;  as,  — 


156  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Some  intemperate  man  lives  to  a  great  age;  there- 
fore, intemperance  is  conducive  to  longevity.  It 
rained  on  Monday  and  the  two  succeeding  days  of  the 
week;  therefore,  when  it  rains  on  Monday  it  will  rain 
three  days  in  the  week.  A  great  man  smokes;  there- 
fore, smoking  is  manly.  Byron  was  licentious  and 
a  great  poet ;  therefore,  licentiousness  is  favorable  to 
poetic  inspiration.  A  man  who  believes  the  doctrines 
of  a  certain  church  is  immoral;  therefore,  the.  doc- 
trines of  that  church  tend  to  produce  immorality. 

This  kind  of  argument  is  much  used  by  the  sophist. 
The  demagogue  finds  it  an  effective  means  of  carrying 
conviction  to  the  minds  of  unthinking  people.  By 
means  of  it,  he  accounts  for  the  dull  or  the  flourishing 
condition  of  the  times;  the  high  or  the  low  price  of 
crops  and  merchandise;  the  scarcity  or  the  abundance 
of  productions;  the  demand  for  labor  or  the  difficulty 
with  which  it  is  obtained;  and  gives  the  credit  or  the 
blame,  as  suits  his  purpose,  to  the  party  in  power, 
when  the  coexistence  of  the  facts  may  be  purely  acci- 
dental. To  prove  the  value  of  a  classical  over  a  scien- 
tific etkrcation,  or  vice  versa,  some  eminent  scholar  is 
instanced  who  has  pursued  one  of  these  courses; 
while  his  eminence  may  be  accounted  for  by  a  large 
number  of  causes;  as,  natural  endowment,  more  thor- 
ough discipline  on  account  of  superior  teachers,  social 
opportunities,  combined  effect  of  various  studies,  etc. 
The  proof  would  be  absolutely  convincing  if  the  same 
person  could  be  the  subject  of  each  course,  for  then 
the  conditions  would  be  identical;  or,  if  many  examples 
under    similar   conditions  from   each    course   could  be 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  157 

♦ 

furnished.  Through  every  phase  of  life,  reasoning 
by  example  is  a  fruitful  source  of  error  in  the  lower 
order  of  thinkers,  and  hence  an  effective  means  of 
deception  in  the  hands  of  the  unprincipled. 

Arguments  from  example  may  be  either  invented  or 
real.  An  argument  against  the  majority  determining 
the  laws  which  govern  a  city  might  be  made  by  invent- 
ing the  example  of  a  majority  determining  the  best 
method  of  performing  a  difficult  surgical  operation, 
rather  than  leaving  the  case  to  one  skillful  surgeon. 
The  argument  derives  its  force  from  the  fact  that 
knowledge  and  skill  bear  the  same  relation  to  the 
making  of  laws  that  they  do  to  surgery.  The  example 
taken  must  be  true  to  experience,  else  it  has  no  con- 
vincing power.  Every  one  knows  the  relation  between 
knowledge  and  skill,  and  a  successful  operation  in  sur- 
gery. If  a  fictitious  city  had  been  presented  as  having 
been  ruled  disastrously  by  the  majority,  the  example 
could  have  had  no  force  whatever,  because  the  ex- 
ample assumes  the  fact  to  be  proved.  The  invented 
examples  in  the  allegory,  the  fable,  the  parable,  are 
used  to  make  a  general  truth  clear,  and  not  as  argu- 
ments to  establish  it. 

A  prominent  form  of  argument  from  effect  to  cause 
is  that  of  testimony.  The  fact  in  the  mind  of  the  wit- 
ness is  produced  by  the  cause  sought,  and  the  conviction 
is  produced  through  the  belief  that  the  witness  will 
speak  the  truth  rather  than  a  falsehood.  In  such 
proof  there  can  be  only  a  probability  of  the  fact 
testified  to  because  all  men  do  not  always  speak 
the    truth.       The    degree    of    probability    depends    on 


158  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

f 

(1)  the  power,   and    (2)   the  desire  of   the   witness   to 
speak  the  truth. 

1.  There  is  a  wide  difference  as  to  the  value  of  the 
testimony  of  two  witnesses  equally  honest.  One  may 
have  powers  of  observation  which  enable  him  to  see  an 
object  or  an  occurrence  more  distinctly,  clearly,  and 
fully  than  another,  or  superior  powers  of  inference, 
that  he  may  interpret  correctly  what  he  sees,  or  greater 
skill  in  expressing  what  he  sees,  that  others  may 
receive  the  correct  impression  of  the  matter  under 
question.  Two  persons  seldom  see  and  report  things 
exactly  alike,  however  much  they  may  desire  to  be  true. 
The  impression  made  on  the  mind  by  the  senses  are 
the  same;  the  divergence  begins  with  the  facts  ob- 
served. Hence,  in  cases  of  proof  by  testimony,  the 
witness  is  confined  to  a  statement  of  what  the  senses 
report.  But  this  is  only  a  question  of  degree,  for  un- 
conscious inferences  are  a  part  of  almost  every  act  of 
sense  perception.  When  the  witness  reports  that  he 
heard  a  certain  object  or  that  he  saw  an  object 
of  a  given  form,  size,  and  at  a  given  distance,  he 
reports  more  than  the  senses  give.  In  all  the  acquired 
sense-perceptions,  that  which  is  literally  given  by  the 
senses  and  that  given  by  the  judgment  cannot  be  sepa- 
rated, except  by  a  conscious  process  of  analysis.  The 
conscious  element  is  the  act  of  sense-perception,  and 
not  the  act  of  inference.  Therefore,  statements  of  the 
truth  gained  by  acquired  sense-perceptions  are  taken  in 
testimony  as  matters  of  fact  rather  than  as  matters  of 
inference  or  of  opinion.  The  one  shades  off  into  the 
other  so  gradually  that  no  definite  boundary  can  be  fixed. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  I  59 

Therefore,  it  would  seem  that  too  much  emphasis  is 
often  placed  on  the  difference  between  statements  of 
facts  and  statements  of  opinion.  Practically,  a  matter 
of  fact  must  be  limited  to  an  individual  concrete  object, 
while  a  matter  of  opinion  consists  of  a  general  truth. 

2.  The  convincing  power  of  a  witness  not  only  de- 
pends on  his  power  to  comprehend  the  truth  accurately 
and  fully,  and  to  state  it  clearly,  but  also  upon  his 
desire  to  state  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth.  Even  when  the  witness  has  no  special 
prejudice  in  the  case  under  trial,  his  narrow-minded- 
ness, his  general  prejudices,  his  confirmed  habit  of 
taking  partial  views  of  questions,  seriously  invalidate 
his  testimony.  If  the  witness  has  some  personal 
interest  involved  in  the  trial,  it  is  expected,  in  the 
weakness  of  human  nature,  that  he  will  consciously  or 
unconsciously  color  the  facts  and  opinions  to  accord 
with  his  own  interests.  But  if  the  witness  testifies 
against  his  own  interest,  the  testimony  has  greater 
value  than  if  he  were  without  bias;  for  in  so  doing  he 
proves  his  adherence  to  truth.  Thus  it  is  when  a  can- 
didate for  office  testifies  to  the  high  character  of  his 
opponent;  a  man  in  business  recommends  the  methods 
of  his  competitor;  one  who  disbelieves  in  evolution 
assents  to  facts  and  conclusions  which  tend  to  sup- 
port that  theory;  or  one  friend  bears  witness  against 
another  in  favor  of  a  common  enemy. 

The  value  of  a  witness  depends  on  his  knowledge  and 
veracity,  as  explained  in  the  foregoing.  If  his  charac- 
ter is  sufficiently  high,  a  single  witness  will  establish 
the   truth    under   question.     Other  things  equal,   the 

*>*"*-  ML, 


l60  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

greater  the  number  of  witnesses,  the  more  effective  is 
the  testimony  produced  ;  but  one  competent  witness,  as 
a  physician  testifying  to  some  point  of  practice  in  medi- 
cine, would  carry  conviction  against  any  number  of 
illiterate  and  non-professional  men.  One  able  and 
honorable  statesman  is  more  competent  to  bear  wit- 
ness on  the  value  of  a  measure  for  general  good  than 
the  mass  of  voters  who  may  be  called  upon  to  testify 
at  the  ballot.  Whatever  the  character,  the  number  of 
witnesses  has  great  force  when,  without  the  opportu- 
nity for  collusion,  they  bear  concurrent  testimony.  In 
this  case  their  agreement  could  not  be  accounted  for 
on  any  other  ground  than  the  truth  of  what  they  say. 
Authority  is  a  kind  of  effect  from  which  valuable 
arguments  may  be  produced.  It  differs  from  testi- 
mony in  that  testimony  respects  a  matter  of  fact,  while 
authority,  a  matter  of  opinion.  In  authority  we  accept 
the  conclusions  others  have  reached  after  an  investiga- 
tion of  the  question  at  issue.  This  is  often  the  most 
forcible  proof  that  can  be  produced,  for  the  conclusions 
may  be  of  an  expert,  or  many  such,  involving  a  wider 
investigation  of  facts  than  would  be  possible  for  the 
immediate  occasion.  In  law,  opinions  delivered  by 
courts  of  justice  are  taken  as  unquestioned  proof 
in  cases  which  the  opinion  covers. 

General   Laws  of  Argumentation. 

The  Law  of  Purpose.  -  The  practical  value  of  an 
argument  is  not  measured  by  its  absolute  logic,  but 
by  the  progress  from  one  mental  condition  to  another, 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  l6l 

made  in  the  mind  of  those  addressed.  Such  progress 
may  require  the  closest  logical  articulation  of  the  sub- 
ject-matter; as,  when  the  purpose  is  to  present  the 
logic  of  the  subject  for  its  own  sake.  In  this  case 
those  addressed  are  supposed  to  be  seeking  the  reason 
involved  in  the  question  for  the  sake  of  that  reason. 
The  mind  desires  the  whys  and  the  wherefores  of 
things,  and  it  appeals  to  argumentation  to  gratify  this 
desire.  In  this  case  the  argument  has  no  end  beyond 
the  logic  of  the  argument  itself;  hence,  the  logical  con- 
tinuity in  the  argument  measures  the  progress  desired 
in  the  mind  addressed.  The  arguments  in  geometry 
are  of  this  class.  It  is  possible  to  argue  questions  of 
free  trade  and  protective  tariff  in  the  same  spirit; 
that  is,  not  as  an  advocate  who  has  an  ulterior  end,  but 
as  one  investigating  truth  for  truth's  sake.  In  such 
cases  the  mind  addressed  is  supposed  to  be  in  search 
of  the  truth,  and  needs  no  rhetorical  device  to  stimu- 
late it  to  active  appropriation.  Such  arguments  are 
supposed  to  fall  outside  the  subject  of  rhetoric  into 
that  of  logic;  yet  the  strictest  logical  argument  must 
form  the  basis  of  adaptation  to  minds  in  other  con- 
ditions than  that  above  described;  just  as  the  logical 
arrangement  of  subject-matter  in  description,  narration, 
and  exposition  forms  the  basis  of  adaptation  to  the 
various  conditions  and  changes  to  be  produced  by  those 
processes  of  discourse. 

The  rhetorical  argument  is  called  into  exercise  in  the 
stress  and  art  of  producing  volition  and  action;  espe- 
cially when  the  mind  is  indifferent  or  hostile  to  the 
truth  advocated.     The  will  must  be  moved  under  one 


1 62  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

or  the  other  of  three  mental  conditions,  which  must 
be  taken  into  account  as  modifying  factors  of  the  logi- 
cal argument ;  that  is,  the  mind  is  open  to  instruction 
and  disposed  to  the  line  of  action  when  the  truth  is 
perceived,  indifferent  to  a  knowledge  of  duty  and  the 
line  of  action  proposed,  or  actively  opposed  to  the  truth 
and  measure  proposed. 

When  the  mind  is  in  the  third  condition  named,  a 
counter  argument  arises,  and  the  two  arguments  con- 
stitute a  debate.  This  fact  modifies  the  procedure  in 
the  individual  arguments,  in  the  fact  that  the  burden 
of  proof  rests  on  him  who  affirms,  and  that  the  pre- 
sumption of  truth  is  in  favor  of  the  one  who  denies. 
In  courts  of  law  the  one  who  charges  another  with 
guilt  must  prove  the  fact  of  guilt;  the  one  who  denies 
the  charge  has  only  to  offset  the  argument.  In  consid- 
ering the  case,  the  judge  and  the  jury  assume  innocence 
until  guilt  is  established.  Likewise,  a  presumption  of 
truth  holds  in  favor  of  certain  opinions,  customs,  and 
institutions  which  an  argument  seeks  to  change,  since 
they  are  supposed  to  have  been  established  for  good 
reasons.  This  presumption  has  such  weight  in  many 
cases  as  to  support  opinions,  customs,  and  institutions 
long  after  the  reasons  that  gave  them  birth  have  passed 
away.  The  one  who  argues  to  maintain  established 
things  has  the  sanction  of  ages  on  his  side,  and  it 
requires  all  the  patience  and  enthusiasm  of  a  bold 
reformer  to  overcome  precedents  and  usages.  He  who 
has  presumption  in  his  favor  should  not  assume  the 
burden  of  proof  unnecessarily;  for  the  one  on  whom 
the  burden  of  proof  rests  must  overcome  all  the  proba- 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 63 

bilities  which  gave  rise  to  the  presumption.  It  is 
much  easier  to  offset  an  argument  to  prove  crime 
than  to  assume  the  burden  of  proof  and  try  to  estab- 
lish innocence. 

The  formal  debate  is  not  the  most  promising  way  of 
arriving  at  truth;  and,  therefore,  not  the  most  effective 
process  of  discourse.  It  is  apt  to  weaken  sincerity  of 
purpose,  in  that  it  prompts  stubborn  adhesion  to  one- 
sided truth,  and  perverts  the  argument  to  personal 
victory  as  against  a  disinterested  and  universal  good. 

The  Law  of  Unity.  — ■  It  has  already  been  observed 
that  the  very  nature  of  an  argument  is  to  establish  the 
unity  between  the  general  principle  and  the  individual 
fact  which  the  principle  determines.  The  different 
processes  of  argument  are  only  so  many  forms  of  doing 
this;  rather,  all  the  processes  taken  together  is  one 
complex  movement  to  this  end;  they  are  all  organically 
one  in  the  process  of  argument,  and  are  all  necessary 
to  establish  fully  the  desired  connection.  The  a  pos- 
teriori argument  must  support  the  probability  raised  by 
the  a  priori  argument;  and  deduction  must  test  the 
conclusions  of  induction  which  furnish  the  deductive 
premise.  And  further,  the  former  pair  of  arguments 
must  be  carried  on  by  means  of  the  latter;  induction 
and  deduction  are  the  means  of  establishing  the  causal 
connection  sought  by  the  a  priori  and  a  posteriori  argu- 
ments. So  that  argumentation  is  a  unified  organic 
movement  having  various  phases  and  parts. 

But  such  is  only  the  logical  unity  inherent  in  the 
argument  itself.  The  argument  must  have  unity,  not 
only  in  itself  considered,  but   in  relation  to  the  mind 


1 64  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

addressed,  —  must  have  rhetorical  as  well  as  logical 
unity.  Everything  must  progressively  tend  to  estab- 
lish belief  in  the  truth  asserted,  and  this  is  subject  to 
other  conditions  than  those  imposed  by  the  laws  of 
thought  alone;  namely,  by  the  capacity,  beliefs,  and 
prejudices  of  those  in  whom  the  new  belief  is  to  be 
established.  The  argument,  to  have  unity,  must 
be  presented  from  the  standpoint  of  the  audience's 
present  knowledge,  interests,  and  desires.  The  most 
closely  unified  and  logical  argument  in  itself  considered 
may  have  no  unity  with  the  mind  addressed.  A  pro- 
gressive argument  toward  belief  is  the  law  of  rhetorical 
unity  in  argumentative  discourse. 

This  law  requires  that  no  matter  be  chosen  which 
does  not  bear  on  the  proposition  to  be  proved.  Irrele- 
vant matter  is  often  introduced  to  divert  the  attention 
from  the  real  point  at  issue,  or  to  ensnare  by  the  belief 
that  proof  has  been  offered  when  there  has  been  none. 
This  certainly  would  be  an  effective  rhetorical  device 
if  rhetoric  did  not  have  to  square  itself  by  ethical 
standards.  Rhetorical  art  must  not  resort  to  logical 
fallacies. 

This  law  also  requires  that  such  proof  shall  be 
offered  as  can  be  grasped  by  the  capacity  of  the  hearer, 
and  such  as  will  assimilate  readily  with  already  exist- 
ing beliefs.  The  most  valid  proof  that  a  youth  should 
be  obedient  to  his  parents  might  completely  lack  unity 
with  him,  because  of  his  incapacity  to  comprehend  the 
ground  of  the  argument.  An  effort  to  convert  one 
from  a  belief  in  monarchy  to  a  belief  in  democracy, 
although  perfectly  unified   and   logical   in   itself,  would 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 65 

have  no  effect  in  the  monarchist's  mind  unless  such 
argument  should  take  its  rise  from  the  monarchist's 
present  beliefs.  Due  regard  must  be  had  in  this  case, 
also,  to  the  selection  of  proofs  that  will  not  antagonize 
by  arousing  inveterate  prejudices.  That  the  mind  may 
yield  itself  to  the  line  of  proof,  the  argument  must  be 
conciliatory. 

When  the  mind  is  indifferent  or  opposed  to  the 
proposition  to  be  argued,  some  preparatory  statements 
must  be  made  by  way  of  arousing  interest  in  the  ques- 
tion or  to  conciliate  the  opposition.  When  the  mind 
addressed  is  opposed,  the  first  step  of  the  speaker  is  to 
put  himself  in  sympathy  with  the  opposition.  It  may 
be  necessary  for  the  speaker  to  veil  his  purpose,  even 
to  the  suppression  of  the  proposition  to  be  proved. 
The  beginning  of  Mark  Antony's  oration  is  a  fine 
example  of  this.  On  this  point  A.  S.  Hill  has  the 
following  :  — 

"  We  have  already  seen  how  important  it  is  that  a 
reasoner  should  himself,  at  the  outset,  clearly  under- 
stand the- proposition  he  is  to  maintain;  but  it  by  no 
means  follows  that  he  should  hasten  to  announce  the 
proposition  to  those  whom  he  would  convince  of  its 
truth.  His  first  object  should  be  to  secure  their  favor- 
able attention. 

"  Now,  to  engage  attention  at  all,  it  is  desirable  to 
appear  to  be  saying  something  new.  If  then  the  prop- 
osition is  a  truism  to  the  persons  addressed,  it  will 
usually  be  judicious  to  awaken  their  attention  by  be- 
ginning with  what  is  novel  in  the  proof.  Regarded 
from  a  new  point  of  view,  approached  by  a  new  path, 


1 66  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  old  conclusion  will  acquire  a  fresh  interest,  except, 
indeed,  for  those  unfortunate  persons  whose  minds  are 
accessible  to  nothing  but  commonplace,  and  for  whom, 
therefore,  even  a  novelty  must  be  presented  in  a  com- 
monplace dress. 

"  If  the  proposition,  whether  well  known  to  the 
persons  addressed  or  not,  is  likely  to  awaken  their 
hostility,  it  should  not  be  announced  till  steps  have 
been  taken  to  procure  for  it  a  favorable  reception. 
Often  the  best  course  to  this  end  is  to  state  at  the  out- 
set the  question  at  issue,  but  not  espouse  either  side 
until  after  the  arguments  for  each  have  been  canvassed. 
It  may  also  be  possible  to  secure  assent  to  general 
principles  from  which  the  conclusion  can  be  logically 
deduced.  In  pursuing  this  course,  the  reasoner  seems 
to  invite  his  readers  or  hearers  to  join  him  in  an 
inquiry  for  truth.  This  inquiry  results,  if  it  be  suc- 
cessful, not  so  much  in  convincing  them  as  in  leading 
them  to  convince  themselves  of  the  justness  of  the 
conclusion,  if  he  is  successful  in  inducing  them  to  give 
some  weight  to  reasons  which  they  would  not  have 
considered  at  all,  had  they  known  to  what  conclusions 
they  led. 

"  Another  method  of  disarming  hostility  is  for  a 
speaker  to  establish  pleasant  relations  with  the  audi- 
ence by  adverting  to  opinions  (irrelevant  ones  it  may 
be)  which  they  hold  in  common  with  him,  before  pro- 
ceeding to  points  of  difference." 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  proposition  should 
be  stated  as  soon  as  favorable  attention  is  gained  and 
before  proofs  have  been  examined.     A  clear  statement 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  167 

of  the  point  at  issue  is  essential  to  unity  in  the  discus- 
sion; for  the  mind  cannot  follow  the  bearing  of  the 
proofs  unless  the  point  on  which  they  bear  is  known. 
It  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  prove  that  Massa- 
chusetts contributed  more  to  civilization  in  America 
than  did  Virginia  unless  it  be  made  clear  what  meaning 
is  put  into  the  term  civilization.  By  the  explanation 
of  the  meaning  attached  to  the  terms  of  the  propo- 
sition, and  to  the  proposition  as  a  whole,  arguments 
are  often  rendered  unnecessary.  Debates  sometimes 
run  to  great  length  and  are  carried  on  with  great 
vehemence  only  to  discover  at  last  that  the  opponents 
hold  substantially  the  same  views.  Hence,  an  exposi- 
tion of  the  proposition  may  be  the  first  step  in  the 
argument.  Whether  or  not  the  proposition  is  an- 
nounced and  explained  at  the  outset,  a  clear  concep- 
tion of  it  is  the  first  step  in  the  preparation  of  the 
argument. 

The  arrangement  of  the  parts  of  the  argument  has 
much  to  do  with  its  effectiveness.  The  law  is  that 
they  should  be  so  arranged  that  they  will  be  cumulative 
in  their  effect.  Each  argument  in  its  place  should  be 
such  as  to  permit  no  rebound  ;  at  least,  from  any  posi- 
tion which  had  been  gained  by  the  preceding  argument. 
From  this  view  it  may  be  inferred  the  weakest  argu- 
ment should  come  first,  and  that  the  others  follow  in 
the  order  of  strength.  Yet  the  law  of  unity  may  not 
permit  this;  for  sometimes  a  strong  argument  is  needed 
at  the  outset  to  gain  confidence  in  the  line  of  argument. 
"The  Nestorian  arrangement  of  troops,  with  the  weak- 
est in  the   middle,  suggests  an  advantageous  order  of 


1 68  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

arrangement.  It  avoids  anti-climax,  and  at  the  same 
time  opens  the  discussion  with  a  strong  argument. 
An  inverse  recapitulation  of  the  arguments  also  obvi- 
ates the  effect  of  anti-climax,  when  in  the  original 
order  the  weakest  comes  last.  A  mere  mention  of  the 
weak  arguments  at  the  beginning,  with  the  statement 
that  you  do  not  rely  upon  them  or  mean  to  use  them, 
may  often  prove  effective."  * 

Exercises. — I.  By  the  suggestions  on  page  140-1, 
test  the  following  syllogisms  from  Jevons'  "  Primer 
of  Logic."  In  doing  so,  train  the  imagination  to  image 
quickly  the  relations  of  the  three  terms  involved;  and 
from  the  relation  of  the  major  and  minor  to  the  middle, 
or  connecting,  term  decide  what  may  and  what  may 
not  be  affirmed:  — 

1.  All  English  silver  coins  are  coined  at  Tower  Hill  ; 
All  sixpences  are  English  coins ; 

Therefore,  all  sixpences  are  coined  at  Tower  Hill. 

2.  All  electors  pay  rates  ; 
No  paupers  pay  rates  ; 
Therefore,  no  paupers  are  electors. 

3.  All  animals  consume  oxygen  ; 
Some  animals  are  flesh-eating  ; 
Therefore,  some  animals  consume  oxygen. 

4.  Some  animals  are  flesh-eating  ; 
Some  animals  have  two  stomachs  ; 

Therefore,  flesh-eating  animals  have  two  stomachs. 

5.  Brittle  substances  are  not  fit  for  coining  ; 
Some  metals  are  brittle  substances  : 
Therefore,  no  metals  are  fit  for  coining. 

ID.  J.  Hill. 


THE    THOUGHT    IN    DISCOURSE.  l6g 

6.  Every  city  contains  a  cathedral ; 
Liverpool  does  not  contain  a  cathedral ; 
Therefore,  Liverpool  is  not  a  city. 

7.  All  minerals  are  raised  from  mines  ; 
All  coals  are  raised  from  mines  ; 
Therefore,  all  coals  are  minerals. 

II.  I.  Make  several  illustrations  of  induction. 
Analyze  them. 

2.  Select  several  illustrations  of  induction.  Ana- 
lyze them. 

3.  Select  a  theme  and  write  an  argument  by  anal- 
ogy. Show  that  the  reasoning  in  Butler's  "  Analogy  " 
is  by  analogy. 

III.  Prove  either  the  positive  or  the  negative  of  the 
following  by  the  a  priori  method :  — 

1.  Free  trade,  or  protection,  is  conducive  to  the  general  good. 

2.  Intemperance  leads  to  misery. 

3.  Education  lessens  crime. 

4.  Faith  in  God  is  conducive  to  morality. 

5.  Games  of  chance  are  hurtful  to  morals. 

6.  Railroads  threading  the  United  States  north  and  south 
would  have  prevented  the  Civil  War. 

7.  Intellectual  education  tends  to  morality. 

8.  Science  promotes  Christianity. 

9.  The  study  of  history  is  a  more  efficient  means  of  culture 
than  the  study  of  Latin. 

IV.  Prove  either  the  positive  or  the  negative  of  the 
following  by  the  a  posteriori  method :  — - 

1.  A  prohibitory  liquor  law  decreases  drunkenness  and  crime. 

2.  Massachusetts  has  been  a  greater  civilizing  force  in  America 
than  has  Virginia. 

3.  Wealth  is  favorable  to  morality. 


I70  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

4.  Popularity  is  not  a  sure  index  to  true  worth. 

5.  The  Crusades  were  beneficial  to  civilization. 

6.  The  exile  of  the  Acadians  was  not  justifiable 

7.  Longfellow  was  a  greater  poet  than  Chaucer. 

8.  America  has  produced  better  orators  than  Greece. 

9.  Argumentation  is  a  more  common  process  of  discourse  than 
exposition. 

V.  In  a  more  complete  way,  using  all  the  methods  of 
argument  necessary  to  the  purpose,  treat  the  follow- 
ing ;  first  having  decided  upon  the  exact  state  of  mind 
supposed  to  be  addressed,  and  whether  the  argument 
is  to  instruct,  move  to  action,  or  rouse  esthetic 
pleasure:  — 

1.  The  English  language  is  a  more  perfect  means  of  communi- 
cation than  the  Latin. 

2.  Capital  punishment  is,  or  is  never,  justifiable. 

3.  The  relation  between  the  North  and  the  South  are  such  as 
to  warrant  the  continuance  of  peace  and  harmony. 

4.  Morality  is  essential  to  a  high  state  of  civilization. 

5.  The  multiplication  of  religious  sects  has  been  favorable  to 
Christianity. 

6.  The  state  should  compel  the  education  of  children  within  its 
jurisdiction. 

7.  The  state  should  support  a  university. 

8.  "Truth  crushed  to  earth  shall  rise  again.  The  eternal 
years  of  God  are  hers." 

9.  The  banishment  of  Roger  Williams  was,  or  was  not,  justifi- 
able. 

10.  Should  the  right  of  suffrage  be  extended  to  women? 
i  1.    Analyze  Burke's  speech  on  American  Taxation. 

12.  Analyze  Webster's  reply  to  Hayne. 

13.  Analyze  the  argument  of  the  Little  Cottage  Girl,  in  Words- 
worth's "  We  are  Seven  "  ;  or  the  argument  in  Tennyson's  "  Two 
Voices,''  or  in  "  In  Memoriam." 


THE  LANGUAGE  IN  DISCOURSE. 

Its  Fundamental  Law. 

The  first  phase  of  discourse  study  is  the  purpose  for 
which  thought  is  uttered;  the  second,  the  thought  as 
a  means  of  securing  the  end  sought;  the  third,  the 
language  conveying  the  thought  to  the  mind  in  which 
the  effect  is  to  be  produced.  This  chapter  is,  there- 
fore, a  language  study,  but  a  language  study  in  a 
restricted  sense. 

A  complete  study  of  language  requires  it  to  be 
viewed  from  two  opposite  directions :  the  one  as 
an  organized  means  of  communication,  the  other  as 
organized  in  the  process  of  communication.  The  first 
discusses  the  origin,  the  development,  and  the  present 
structure  of  language  as  such,  or  language  in  itself; 
the  second,  language  in  living  unity  with  thought, 
bearing  its  message  to  accomplish  the  end  for  which 
the  thought  in  any  given  case  is  communicated.  This 
is  not  a  difference  in  the  extent  of  the  view  taken,  but 
a  difference  in  the  phase  on  which  the  attention  rests. 
In  both  cases  language  is  viewed  in  its  entire  extent, 
but  not  in  its  entire  content.  From  this  side  we  see 
the  whole  as  a  body  of  thought  symbol,  empty  of  con- 
tent, except  in  so  far  as  necessary  to  explain  the  sym- 
bol; on  that  side,  the  whole  as  the  living  body  of 
thought  manifesting  the  soul  of  an  author  to  the  soul 
of  the  reader  or  hearer.      In  the  one,  thought  is  used 


I72  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

to  explain  the  language  symbol  —  thought  the  means, 
language  the  end;  in  the  other,  language  is  used  to 
convey 'thought  —  language  the  means,  thought  the 
end:  that  is,  language  considered  in  the  process 
of  communicating  thought. 

In  order  to  make  thought  a  means  to  gain  a  knowl- 
edge of  language  as  an  end,  there  is  required  a  con- 
scious process  of  separation  between  the  language 
form  and  the  content.  This  conscious  separation  of 
form  and  content,  in  order  to  discern  how  language 
is  adjusted  to  thought,  is  the  characteristic  feature  of 
all  true  grammatical  study.  But  language  in  discourse 
is  necessarily  viewed  in  'living  unity  with  the  thought 
which  it  communicates.  Neither  the  composer  nor  the 
interpreter  is  conscious  of  the  relation  of  language 
to  thought.  Language  and  thought  grow  into  one 
in  the  process  of  communication;  and  the  words  be- 
come so  tinged  and  flushed  with  the  life  of  thought 
that  language  itself  includes,  not  merely  language  sym- 
bols as  shown  by  grammatical  dissection,  but  whatever 
life  the  thought  imparts  to  them.  Language  as  a 
means  of  expression  includes  the  life,  the  richness,  the 
fullness,  and  the  power  with  which  words  are  charged 
by  the  mind,  stimulated  and  exalted  into  new  and  un- 
usual conceptions  of  the  matter  under  consideration. 
When  we  speak  of  one's  clearness,  charm,  and  vigor  of 
language,  we  include  not  merely  choice  of  words  and 
structure  of  sentences,  but  a  certain  illumination  of  the 
subject  by  the  mind, — the  grace  and  delicacy  of 
its  conceptions,  and  the  striking  forms  and  imagery 
with  which  it  clothes  its  thought  to  make  it  effective. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 73 

Hence,  it  is  not  correctness  of  language  form  in  rela- 
tion to  thought,  but  effectiveness  in  securing  the  end 
sought  which  constitutes  the  rhetorical  quality  of 
language.  That  quality  of  language  which  makes  it 
effective  is  called  Style.  As  usually  defined,  style  is 
the  peculiar  manner  in  which  an  individual  author  ex- 
presses himself.  If  this  is  style  no  science  can  be 
made  of  it;  for  then  there  are  as  many  styles  as 
speakers  and  writers.  That  individuality  of  an  author 
which  one  readily  detects  in  reading  a  new  selection 
from  a  familiar  author,  and  which  constitutes  a  part  of 
his  charm,  is  for  that  author  only,  and  can  no  more  be 
explained  and  utilized  by  another  than  can  the  author's 
peculiar  voice,  bearing,  and  facial  expression.  What- 
ever the  individual  peculiarities  of  the  writing,  whether 
it  be  Tennysonian  or  Johnsonian,  it  must  have  those 
common  properties  which  make  language  effective. 
Style,  as  here  to  be  understood,  is  the  common,  essen- 
tial, and  fundamental  quality  of  language  which  adapts 
it  to  the  ends  for  which  language  is  uttered, — which 
makes  it  an  instrument  to  the  effective  communication 
of  thought. 

Hence,  the  fundamental  law  of  language  in  discourse, 
which  is  the  organizing  principle  throughout  the  fol- 
lowing discussion,  may  be  formulated  as  follows:  — 

That  language,- or  style,  is  best  which  communicates 
thought  most  effectively  to  the  end  sought  by  the  dis- 
course. 


174  the  science  of  discourse. 

Qualities  Required  by  the  Law. 

Language  must  be  adapted  to  the  three  ends  of 
discourse;  hence  there  must  be  three  qualities  of  lan- 
guage, one  quality  adapting  it  to  communicate  thought 
to  the  intellect,  one  to  present  thought  to  the  end  of 
volition,  and  one  to  the  end  of  esthetic  pleasure. 
Since  thought  is  presented  in  each  case,  there  is  one 
fundamental  quality  of  style  growing  out  of  the  rela- 
tion of  language  to  thought  in  the  process  of  language 
interpretation;  namely,  Clearness,  or  Perspicuity.  This 
is  the  fundamental  quality  of  all  discourse,  whatever  its 
purpose,  and  the  only  quality  uniformly  required  when 
the  purpose  is  to  instruct.  But  if  the  author  seek  to 
move  the  will  or  to  impress  the  thought,  he  must  add 
to  Clearness,  Energy ;  and  if  to  please  or  to  touch  the 
emotions  for  their  own  sake,  he  must  add  to  Clearness, 
Elegance.  The  language  of  prose  should  be  clear;  of 
oratory,  energetic;  of  poetry,  elegant.  Each  should 
be  clear  as  a  condition  of  delivering  the  thought  to  the 
intellect;  but  oratory,  to  impress  the  truth,  to  stimu- 
late the  indifferent,  to  convince  the  perverse,  must  be 
full  of  vigor  and  power;  and  poetry,  to  please  the  taste, 
must  have  beauty  of  conception  and  expression.  In 
addition,  therefore,  to  the  fact  that  language  must  be 
clear  in  order  to  deliver  its  truth  to  the  intellect,  under 
some  circumstances,  it  is  required  also  to  stimulate 
the  energies  of  the  mind  to  appropriate  the  truth 
presented,  to  enjoy  it,  or  to  live  in  obedience  thereto. 
Thus  style  has  not  only  its  indifferent  phase  of  passive 
transmission,  but  its  active  phase  of  stimulation. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 75 

While  Clearness  is  the  characteristic  quality  of  prose, 
it  may  be  necessary  to  stimulate  it  with  beauty  and 
force  of  diction  and  conception  in  order  to  dispose  the 
mind  to  receive  the  truth,  and  that  the  truth  may  be 
impressed  upon  it.  To  instruct  those  of  mature  age 
and  those  who  are  active  seekers  of  truth  requires  only 
the  utmost  Clearness;  but  to  instruct  children  or  those 
who  are  indifferent  to  the  truth  which  the  author 
wishes  to  convey  requires  a  degree  of  Elegance  in  style 
to  interest  the  attention,  and  a  degree  of  Energy  to 
impress  the  thought  presented.  Hence,  Elegance  and 
Energy  do  not  belong  exclusively  to  poetry  and  oratory. 
Elegance  and  Energy  in  prose,  as  in  oratory,  are  a 
means.  In  poetry,  Elegance  is  an  end.  The  style 
constitutes  the  poem.  Prose  takes  upon  itself  the 
qualities  of  poetry  and  oratory  when  it  adds  to  its  ordi- 
nary work  of  instruction  that  of  influencing  the  mind 
to  appropriate  the  instruction  given.  Prose  influences 
to  instruct;  while  oratory  instructs  to  influence. 

To  influence,  however,  is  not  the  characteristic  func- 
tion of  prose,  and  Elegance  and  Energy  are  not  the 
characteristic  qualities  of  its  language.  Prose  and 
poetry  communicate  truth  and  beauty  for  all  time, 
and  assume  eager  minds  in  search  of  them.  There- 
fore, the  language  is  not  required  to  bear  the  burden 
of  conveying  thought  or  pleasing  the  taste,  and  at  the 
same  time  of  stimulating  the  reader  or  hearer.  The 
scientist  and  the  poet  cast  their  books  to  the  public, 
knowing  that  those  will  read  who  find  there  what  the 
mind  and  the  heart  crave.  The  book  of  prose  or  poetry 
determines   the  reader;    the  audience  determines  the 


I76  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

oration.  Given  the  audience  with  a  definite  change  of 
will  to  be  produced,  and  the  orator  assumes  the  aggres- 
sive. He  cannot  wait  till  they,  desiring  to  change 
their  opinion  or  conduct,  search  out  motives  to  influ- 
ence themselves.  This  would  remove  the  necessity 
for  the  oration.  His  thought  and  language  cannot  be 
passive,  but  must  be  energized  to  stir  the  indifferent, 
sluggish,  or  perverse  wills  to  some  definite  course  of 
action. 

While  all  these  qualities  of  language  are  essential, 
under  certain  conditions,  to  each  kind  of  discourse, 
yet,  beyond  a  given  degree,  they  are  incompatible. 
Prose  may  gain  such  beauty  and  force  of  expression  as 
to  defeat  perspicuity.  Clearness,  accuracy,  and  force 
of  statement  may  be  carried  so  far  as  to  defeat  poetic 
beauty;  and  the  terse  vigor  essential  to  the  oration  is 
inconsistent  with  prosaic  clearness  or  poetic  finish. 
Each  kind  of  production  must  be  characterized  by  its 
own  quality  of  language,  or  its  identity  will  be  lost  and 
its  purpose  defeated.  If  it  be  necessary  to  infuse  the 
clearness  of  prose  with  the  life  of  poetry  and  oratory, 
it  must  be  so  tempered  that  the  intellect  will  be  stimu- 
lated only  to  seize  the  truth,  not  so  as  to  be  absorbed 
in  the  beauties  of  conception.  Here,  Clearness  must 
prevail  over  Elegance  and  Energy.  While  poetry  is 
marked  by  Elegance,  yet  Clearness  and  Energy  are 
essential.  That  accuracy  and  fullness  which  are  best 
adapted  to  the  expression  of  thought  are  inconsistent 
with  the  finer  workmanship  of  poetry;  and  so  is  the 
rigid  tension  of  forcible  utterance  in  oratory.  The 
orator  with  due  care  must  present  his  thoughts  clearly 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 77 

and  elegantly;  yet  strength  must  be  secured,  even  if 
the  strokes  be  rough  and  sinewy. 

Thus  effectiveness,  the  law  of  language  in  discourse, 
requires  language  to  be  clear,  energetic,  or  elegant, 
accordingly  as  the  purpose  is  to  instruct,  to  move  the 
will,  or  to  gratify  the  taste. 

Clearness.  —  Clearness,  then,  is  that  quality  of  lan- 
guage which  adapts  it  to  instruct  or  to  communicate 
thought  to  the  intellect,  whether  in  prose,  oratory,  or 
poetry. 

This  quality  is  essential  in  prose.  If  mind  could 
communicate  directly  with  mind,  the  communication 
would  be  perfect,  for  nothing  would  be  lost  in  the 
process.  But  language  is  necessarily  an  impediment. 
The  receiving  mind  must  not  only  think  the  speaker's 
or  the  writer's  thought,  but  must,  at  the  same  time, 
interpret  the  medium  through  which  the  thought  is 
transmitted.  This  divides  the  attention  between  the 
thought  and  the  language,  —  the  thought,  which 
the  author  wishes  the  reader  or  hearer  to  attend  to 
with  all  his  energy  that  he  may  fully  realize  the  con- 
tent, and  the  language,  which  the  writer  or  speaker 
uses  only  as  a  means  of  causing  him  to  think  the 
content.  Since  the  receiving  mind  has  only  a  given 
amount  of  energy,  so  far  as  the  attention  is  required  to 
the  medium  of  communication  it  is  withdrawn  from  the 
thought  to  be  conveyed.  Hence,  the  chief  problem 
of  language  in  discourse  is  to  reduce  to  the  minimum 
the  effort  of  the  mind  in  the  interpretation  of  the 
medium.  The  medium  must  be  so  transparent  that 
the  interpreting  mind  will  not  be  conscious  of  its  pres- 


iy8  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ence,  but  will  feel  itself  in  immediate  communication 
with  the  mind  of  the  writer  or  speaker.  While  lan- 
guage necessarily  requires  some  attention,  it  may  be  so 
perfect  that  the  interpreter  is  unconscious  of  it ;  so  far, 
at  least,  as  not  to  have  a  double  consciousness  in  gain- 
ing the  thought.  In  learning  a  foreign  language,  the 
student  at  first  is  conscious  only  of  language  form, 
and  does  not  read.  Later,  he  begins  to  interpret  the 
thought  of  discourse,  but  realizes  feebly  the  content, 
being  painfully  conscious  of  the  language  medium. 
Finally,  after  many  years  of  study,  when  the  language 
has  passed  into  identity  with  thought,  the  student 
reads  with  only  a  consciousness  of  the  thought  and 
spirit  of  the  author.  Not  that  language  and  thought 
are  identical,  but  that  the  mind  in  seeing  the  language 
immediately  grasps  the  thought  without  a  second  act 
of  attention. 

Effectiveness  in  communicating  the  thought  has 
already  been  given  as  the  fundamental  law  of  language. 
The  preceding  prepares  for  the  statement  of  the  fun- 
damental law  of  effectiveness  in  terms  of  the  law  of 
Clearness. 

That  language  is  most  effective  which)  to  the  reader  or 
hearer,  is  identical  with  the  thought.  Or,  that  language 
is  most  effective  which  requires  the  least  possible  amount 
of  attention  from  the  reader  or  hearer. 

Whatever  be  the  end  sought,  whether  instruction, 
pleasure,  or  volition,  Clearness  must  be  found  in  every 
word  and  in  every  sentence  of  every  prose  discourse, 
poem,  or  oration ;  for  if  the  author  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood it  were  as  well  that  he  remain  silent.      Clearness 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 79 

has  been  denned  as  that  quality  of  expression  by  virtue 
of  which  it  communicates  the  contained  thought  with- 
out diverting  the  attention  from  the  thought  to  the 
symbol  of  thought.  That  language  is  clearest  which 
requires  the  least  attention  in  the  process  of  its  inter- 
pretation. A  truly  transparent  medium  through  which 
reader  and  hearer  meet  without  interruption,  mind  to 
mind  with  writer  or  speaker,  is  the  standard  of  perspi- 
cuity in  the  expression  of  thought. 

Clearness  is  not  a  quality  that  can  belong  to  language 
as  such;  it  becomes  a  quality  only  when  organized  by 
thought  in  adaptation  to  a  stated  purpose  to  be  accom- 
plished under  given  conditions.  It  is,  therefore,  a 
relative,  not  an  absolute  quality;  a  rhetorical  rather 
than  a  grammatical  quality.  Language  can  be  said 
to  be  clear  or  obscure  only  for  those  to  whom  it  is 
addressed.  Language  must  be  as  clear  as  the  subject- 
matter  permits  and  as  the  capacity  of  those  addressed 
requires.  The  same  language  will  not  be  clear  to  the 
man  and  to  the  child,  to  the  literate  and  to  the  illiter- 
ate. That  the  reader  does  not  understand  what  he 
reads  may  not,  however,  be  the  fault  of  the  expression ; 
the  difficulty  may  be  in  the  thought  itself.  The  ex- 
pression may  be  clear  to  those  to  whom  such  thought 
is  addressed.  Assuming  that  the  matter  is  adapted  to 
the  level  of  the  experience  of  the  given  audience,  the 
expression  should  be  such  as  to  enable  that  audience 
to  realize  without  effort,  so  far  as  the  expression  is 
concerned,  the  matter  presented. 

Energy.  —  Energy  is  that  quality  of  style  which  im- 
presses the  matter  of  discourse. 


l80  THE    SCTENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Energy  is  an  active,  clearness  a  passive  quality.  So 
far  as  the  medium  is  concerned,  clearness  permits  the 
reader  to  gain  the  thought  without  effort.  Clearness 
assumes  an  eager  mind  seeking  the  truth, — a  mind 
already  stored  with  the  necessary  stimulus  for  acquisi- 
tion. Energy  has  for  its  purpose  the  stimulation  of 
mental  activity;  either  to  impress  the  truth  on  the 
intellect  when  the  purpose  is  to  instruct,  or  to  excite 
the  sensibilities  when  the  purpose  is  to  please  as  an 
end,  or  when  it  is  desired  to  affect  an  action  of  the 
will.  Hence,  the  quality  of  style  now  to  be  considered 
is  common  to  all  classes  of  discourse.  But  while  it  is 
secondary  in  prose  and  poetry,  it  is  a  primary  quality 
in  oratory.  Prose  and  poetry  may  assume  a  mind 
active  in  seeking  the  truth  or  the  pleasure  communi- 
cated; but  in  the  oration,  the  hearer  is  not  already 
choosing  in  the  line  proposed.  This  would  remove 
the  condition  which  gave  rise  to  the  oration;  and  this 
condition  requires  Energy  as  the  primary  quality  of 
style. 

That  Energy  is  necessary  in  prose  is  obvious  from 
the  fact  that  a  truth  may  be  expressed  clearly  to  the 
intellect,  yet  so  feebly  that  it  makes  no  lodgment 
in  the  mind  addressed.  Such  a  statement  may  often  be 
infused  with  sufficient  life  and  force  to  imbed  the 
thought  effectively.  That  is,  the  truth  is  not  only 
expressed  but  impressed  by  the  quality  of  the  statement 
itself.  When  Lowell  wishes  not  only  to  express  but 
to  impress  the  fact  that  a  large  number  of  authors  be- 
gin their  career  with  promise  and  even  notoriety,  but 
that  only  a  few  of  this  number  have  an  enduring  fame, 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  l8l 

he  says:  "  Many  a  light,  hailed  by  too  careless  observ- 
ers as  a  fixed  star,  has  proved  to  be  only  a  short-lived 
lantern  at  the  tail  of  a  newspaper  kite."  The  same 
author,  in  speaking  of  the  influence  of  Swift's  humor 
on  Carlyle,  after  it  had  filtered  through  Richter,  says: 
"  Unhappily,  the  bit  of  mother  from  Swift's  vinegar 
barrel  had  strength  to  sour  all  the  rest."  These  are 
not  examples  of  clearness,  for  this  could  have  been 
secured  by  ordinary  language.  They  are  not  elegant, 
for  they  do  not  appeal  to  the  taste.  The  purpose  be- 
ing to  instruct,  the  secured  energy  is  not  to  move  the 
will.  When  Chaucer,  in  speaking  of  the  Clerk's  horse, 
says,  "  As  lene  was  his  horse  as  is  a  rake,"  he  did  not 
express  the  truth  more  clearly  nor  more  elegantly  than 
he  might  otherwise  have  done,  but  he  forcibly  impressed 
the  image  of  that  horse.  When  we  are  told  that  a 
certain  pastor  was  so  faithful  that  he  watched  over  his 
flock  while  they  slept,  we  receive  the  plain  truth  that 
he  preached  sleep-producing  sermons  with  multiplied 
power  and  lasting  effect.  Fortunate  is  that  writer 
who  not  only  can  express  his  truth  clearly,  but  can 
impress  it  by  the  power  of  the  statement  in  which  it  is 
expressed. 

When  emotions  are  presented,  either  to  the  end 
of  esthetic  pleasure  or  to  new  resolution,  they  must  be 
made  to  have  their  full  power  in  the  mind  addressed. 
If  pity  is  the  theme,  the  object  awakening  it  must  be 
made  to  stir  the  heart  to  its  depths  with  that  emotion; 
when  grief  is  to  be  experienced,  the  feeling  must  be 
made  as  intense  as  the  purpose  requires  and  the  truth 
permits.      With  reference  to  the  effective  handling  of 


1 82  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  emotion,  we  often  speak  of  passages  of  literature 
as  having  great  power.  Such  are  well  illustrated  in 
many  of  Tennyson's  poems;  as,  "  Break,  Break,  Break," 
"Enoch  Arden,"  "  The  May  Queen,"  "Ode  on  the 
Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington." 

Thus  Energy,  in  whatever  kind  of  discourse,  has 
reference  to  the  power  with  which  the  end  is  reached, 
—  to  whatever  the  writer  adds  to  clearness  of  expres- 
sion to  carry  the  matter  with  strength,  force,  or  vigor 
to  the  end  sought. 

Elegance.  —  Elegance  is  tliat  quality  of  expression 
which  adapts  the  discourse  to  please.  It  is  the  essen- 
tial quality  in  literary  composition;  but  in  prose,  Ele- 
gance is  subordinate  to  Clearness,  being  permissable 
only  to  stimulate  and  open  the  mind  to  receive  the 
thought  expressed;  while  in  oratory,  Elegance  serves 
to  charm  and  win  assent  to  propositions  of  duty  and 
action.  As  Clearness,  while  the  characteristic  quality 
of  prose,  is  essential  to  poetry  and  oratory,  so  Ele- 
gance, while  the  characteristic  quality  of  poetry,  is 
essential,  under  certain  conditions,  to  prose  and  to 
oratory.  A  degree  of  Elegance  may  be  said  to  be 
essential  to  all  prose  and  to  all  oratory.  At  least, 
the  style  of  these  must  be  in  good  taste  to  the  degree 
of  having  nothing  disagreeable  or  offensive  in  them. 
The  elements  of  style  thus  mutually  condition  each  other. 
Clearness  economizes  the  intellectual  effort  of  inter- 
pretation; Elegance  economizes  the  energies  of  the 
mind  in  the  feelings,  or  by  exhilarating  the  faculties 
enables  them  to  do  the  work  with  greater  ease. 
Thus  not  only  to  the  degree  of  avoiding  offense,  but 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 83 

to  that  of  giving  buoyancy  to  the  faculties,  Elegance 
is  required  in  all  discourse,  and  truth  presented  in 
the  oration  is  often  most  deeply  impressed  by  being 
clothed  in  forms  of  beauty. 

In  Clearness,  the  laws  of  style  are  deduced  from  the 
necessary  intellectual  acts  of  language  interpretation. 
In  Elegance  we  are  to  deduce  the  laws  wholly  from  an 
appeal  to  the  sensibilities;  and  to  them  as  the  sense 
of  the  beautiful.  Elegance  appeals  to  the  esthetic 
sense,  and  its  laws  must  be  determined  by  the  general 
laws  of  beauty.  Here  style,  in  the  highest  form  of 
Elegance,  becomes  the  end  of  expression;  not  style  as 
mere  language,  but  the  complete  embodiment  of  the 
thought.  It  is  not  the  purpose  for  the  attention  to 
rest  in  the  mere  matter  communicated,  as  in  prose; 
but  the  attention  is  diverted  to  the  conception  of  the 
matter;  the  emotions  are  enlisted  by  it.  The  method, 
not  the  matter,  is  the  chief  concern  of  the  writer  and 
the  source  of  interest  to  the  reader.  This  does  not 
mean  that  Elegance  arises  from  mere  external  work- 
manship; but  rather  that  the  matter  itself  becomes  a 
part  of  the  method —becomes  one  with  the  expres- 
sion. Matter  and  form  coalesce  into  a  new  and  living 
product,  which-  as  a  whole  pleases  the  taste.  Thus, 
while  style  is  subordinate  to  the  end  of  thought  and 
volition  in  prose  and  in  oratory,  in  poetry  it  becomes 
an  end  in  itself,  existing  in  and  for  itself,  as  does  any 
other  beautiful   object. 

An  object  is  said  to  be  beautiful  when  it  is  felt  that 
the  idea,  or  energy,  which  it  manifests  has  its  free- 
dom.     A  moving  train  is  beautiful  when  it  is  felt  that 


1 84  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  energy  which  moves  it  is  not  in  bondage  to  the 
train,  —  when  the  energy  manifests  itself  with  ease  and 
freedom.  When  the  observer  is  conscious,  through 
the  purring,  straining,  and  slipping  of  wheels,  that  the 
energy  is  straining  to  move  the  train,  he  pronounces  it 
ugly.  The  electric  car  is  felt  to  be  beautiful  because 
it  seems  to  be  the  free  manifestation  of  its  own  inner 
life;  while  a  car  drawn  by  external  force  seems  to  be 
helpless  and  in  bondage  to  its  own  nature,  and  hence 
felt  to  be  ugly.  A  column  is  beautiful  —  well  propor- 
tioned— when  it  supports  its  weight  without  effort, — 
when  not  so  small  that  it  seems  in  a  strain  to  support 
weight  above  it,  or  when  not  so  large  that  it  has  to 
support  unnecessary  weight  in  itself  ;  that  is,  when  it 
is  free  in  relation  to  the  end  it  accomplishes.  A  tree 
is  beautiful  when  the  energy  which  creates  it  has  fully 
and  freely  manifested  itself.  If  the  tree  is  lopped  and 
twisted  so  that  the  creative  energy  suffers  opposition 
and  violence,  the  tree  is  felt  to  be  ugly.  Thus  beauty 
is  the  manifestation  of  free,  creative  energy. 

Language  is  beautiful,  therefore,  when  it  gives  free- 
dom to  the  energy  which  produces  it  ;  and  this  in  the 
twofold  respect  of  its  being  the  product  of  a  physical 
force  and  of  the  idea  which  calls  it  forth.  Such  lan- 
guage causes  esthetic  pleasure  in  the  process  of  inter- 
pretation. Clearness  and  Energy  are  also  beautiful. 
One  cannot  help  admiring  perfectly  transparent  lan- 
guage, and  this  is  because  of  the  sense  of  freedom  felt 
in  coming  directly  in  touch  with  the  idea.  Obscure 
language  is  necessarily  ugly  because  it  awakens  a 
sense  of  bondage.      Energetic  language  is  felt  to    be 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 85 

beautiful  because  tbe  purpose  of  the  speaker  or  writer 
is  fully  and  freely  realized.  The  reader  cannot  help 
rejoicing  in  the  effective  expression  of  a  thought.  In 
reading  a  good  style  of  writing  one  often  exclaims, 
That's  the  way  to  say  it!  because  it  brings  to  the 
reader  an  idealized  sense  of  his  own  freedom  of  effort 
in  giving  his  expression  to  thought. 

To  put  the  case  differently,  every  one  has  an  abiding 
sense  of  bondage  in  expressing  his  thought  so  that  it 
may  produce  the  desired  effect.  When  the  reader 
reads  an  effective  style  of  writing,  his  sense  of  bond- 
age is  removed  in  a  sense  of  freedom  of  expression 
awakened  by  the  style.  A  writer  may  wish  to  arouse 
a  feeling  of  sadness  or  of  charity  or  of  philanthropy, 
and  his  whole  effort  must  be  expended  in  producing 
the  desired  effect.  When  the  language  is  fully  ade- 
quate to  the  desired  end,  the  reader  rejoices  in  the 
idealized  freedom  of  expression  awakened  in  the  proc- 
ess of  interpretation. 

Thus  in  one  sense  Elegance  is  only  the  bloom  of 
Clearness  and  Energy.  It  cannot  be  added  to  lan- 
guage; it  is  intrinsic  and  organic,  and  consists  in  what- 
ever awakens  the  sense  of  language  freedom. 

Conditions  for  Securing  the  Qualities. 

Conditions  for  Securing  Clearness.  —  Thought  cannot 
be  clearly  embodied  in  language  by  any  mere  study  of 
diction  as  such.  Perspicuity  of  expression  has  its 
foundation  in  perspicuity  of  thought.  The  style  grows 
out    of    the   thought.      The  relation    is    an    organic,   a 


1 86  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

vital  one.  Style  is  not  mechanism;  it  is  organism. 
It  is  built  from  the  inside  out,  by  the  vital  force  which 
urges  to  expression.  Thought  is  the  soul;  expression, 
the  incarnate  form,  vitalized  and  moulded,  not  by  ex- 
ternal pressure,  but  by  the  inner  impulse  of  thought. 
True,  Clearness  depends  on  the  right  use  of  words 
and  forms  in  which  thought  is  embodied;  but  this 
must  be  ordered  from  within  and  not  from  without. 

Clearness  of  thought,  therefore,  with  all  that  this 
implies  of  accurate  discipline  and  thorough  furnishing 
of  the  mind,  is  the  general  primary  condition  to  clear- 
ness of  expression.  He  who  would  seek  this  quality 
of  style  must  subject  himself  to  whatever  discipline 
will  secure  power  of  distinct  conception  and  clear 
insight,  and  the  habit  of  methodical,  thorough,  and 
complete  mental  activity;  to  whatever  will  multiply  the 
resources  of  his  mind  and  increase  the  scope  of  his 
mental  vision.  Confused  and  obscure  thinking  cannot 
result  in  other  than  confused  and  obscure  language, 
and  only  clearness  of  thinking  can  clothe  itself  in 
clearness  of  expression.  It  must  not  be  understood 
that  because  the  writer  thinks  clearly  that  he  will 
necessarily  write  clearly.  He  is  yet  under  the  limi- 
tations of  the  laws  of  expression,  to  which  he  must 
render  conscious  obedience.  There  may  be  clear  think- 
ing without  clear  expression,  but  not  clear  expression 
without  clear  thinking.  It  is  here  intended  to  empha- 
size only  the  fundamental  importance  of  a  mind  trained 
to  realize  distinctly,  vividly,  and  thoroughly,  whatever 
it  wishes  to  body  forth  in  language  form;  and  that  to 
cultivate  a  perspicuous  style  implies  not  only  the  study 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 87 

of  the  laws  of  expression,  but  a  thorough  culture  of 
all  the  powers  of  the  mind.  Accordingly,  a  student 
who  wishes  to  form  a  good  style  must  not  expect  too 
much  from  direct  means,  but  must  rely  chiefly  on  what- 
ever quickens  intellectual  life  into  thorough  work. 

And  not  only  is  there  needed  thorough  intellectual, 
but  thorough  moral  habit  as  well.  The  attitude  of  the 
mind  toward  the  truth  to  be  presented  may  determine 
whether  the  truth  be  made  obscure  or  obvious.  If 
truth  be  presented  in  the  interest  of  passion  or  preju- 
dice, it  necessarily  becomes  partial,  distorted,  and 
blurred,  and  the  phraseology  can  only  disguise  the 
truth  which  it  should  express.  An  earnest  desire  to 
present  the  truth  for  its  own  sake  is  the  only  impulse 
that  can  force  the  writer  into  obvious  expression. 
Truth,  sincerity,  and  simplicity  in  the  writer  are 
always  transferred,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  to 
the  writing,  and  the  expression  becomes  true,  simple, 
direct,  and  plain.  Even  when  one  writes  with  only 
a  degree  of  self-consciousness,  not  yielding  himself 
wholly  to  the  thing  he  has  to  say,  the  unnatural  fit 
of  the  expression  to  the  thought  betrays  his  insin- 
cerity, and  impedes  the  reader.  Whenever  there  is 
found  a  stilted,  unnatural,  pompous,  high-sounding 
style  as  the  garb  of  plain  truth,  it  comes  from  the 
fact  that  the  writer  concerns  himself  more  with  the 
way  in  which  he  says  it  than  with  what  he  says.  He 
wishes  you  to  understand,  not  what  he  says,  so  much 
as  that  he  is  saying  it,  and  saying  it  well.  This  desire 
to  cultivate  a  style  for  its  own  sake  leads  to  servile 
imitation  of  literary  models.     These  should  be  used  to 


1 88  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

perfect  one's  expression;  but  to  use  them  to  form  ex- 
pressions for  the  sake  of  the  expression  means  hypoc- 
risy in  the  writer  and  weakness  and  obscurity  in  the 
writing.  Let  us,  therefore,  put  down,  in  style  as  in 
morals,  sincerity  as  the  first  desideratum. 

The  general  conditions  of  perspicuity,  honesty  and 
discipline,  prepare  for  the  more  immediate  conditions 
and  special  limitations  of  the  writer's  or  the  speaker's 
actual  work  of  construction. 

In  the  first  place,  he  must  put  himself  under  the 
limitations  of  a  specific  end,  which  his  particular  dis- 
course is  to  effect,  and  the  means  by  which  he  is  to 
reach  the  proposed  end.  The  preceding  chapters  on 
Purpose  and  Thought  have  dealt  with  the  ends  and 
means  with  a  view  to  effective  expression.  Since  it  is 
the  province  of  rhetoric  to  treat  of  the  effective  utter- 
ance of  thought,  it  must  not  omit  the  conditions  to  that 
end.  It  was  stated  in  the  chapter  on  Purpose  that  the 
first  act  of  the  mind  in  the  construction  of  a  discourse 
is  the  fixing  of  a  definite  aim.  It  now  remains  only  to 
insist  that  a  definite  conception  of  the  end,  whether 
to  instruct  the  intellect,  please  the  emotions,  or  stimu- 
late to  resolution,  and  of  the  specific  character  of  each 
of  these  to  be  reached,  is  absolutely  essential  to  Clear- 
ness. The  end  determines  and  organizes  the  means; 
and  nothing  less  than  a  definite,  vivid  apprehension  of 
the  end  can  bring  to  bear  suitable  matter  or  embody 
it  in  intelligible  forms.  The  end  gives  form  to  the 
composition,  and  the  form  must  be  clear  in  relation  to 
that  end.  What  is  clear  for  one  purpose  may  not  be  so 
for  another.     A  thought   presented  clearly  enough  for 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 89 

poetical  purposes  may  be  obscure  for  intellectual  pur- 
poses; and  matter  presented  clearly  as  individuals  to 
the  imagination  may  not  be  clear  for  purposes  of  thought. 
A  definite  aim  rejects  irrelevant  ideas,  puts  in  order 
confused  ones,  determines  the  right  word  and  turn  of 
phrase,  and  gives  method,  precision,  and  accuracy  to  all 
the  movements  of  the  mind.  Without  this  special  con- 
dition, it  is  impossible  to  give  unity  and  symmetry  to 
the  theme — both  essential  to  an  easy  and  a  correct 
understanding  of  the  matter  presented. 

After  the  writer  has  defined  to  himself  the  purpose 
and  the  special  condition  in  the  mind  addressed  under 
which  the  purpose  is  to  be  realized,  a  thorough  mastery 
of  the  thought  by  means  of  which  the  purpose  is  to 
be  realized  is  the  last  condition  to  clear  expression. 
This  is  to  be  mastered  under  the  relations  and  laws 
presented  in  the  several  chapters  under  thought  —  De- 
scription,  Narration,   Exposition,  and  Argumentation. 

To  attempt  to  put  in  language  what  has  not  been 
clearly  thought  is  the  most  prevalent  source  of  ob- 
scurity. The  first  requirement  under  this  head  is  that 
of  a  definite  conception  of  the  theme.  The  exact  object, 
event,  or  thought  must  be  so  clearly  apprehended  as 
not  only  to  give  order  and  unity  to  the  parts,  and  the 
mind  free  and  easy  movement  in  their  arrangement, 
but  that  the  mind  may  be  so  stimulated  that  it  will 
clothe  its  thought  in  living  forms.  The  theme  should 
be  studied  till  it  becomes  a  part  of  the  writer's  being, 
and  strives  for  utterance.  Sidney  Smith,  in  a  criticism 
of  Dr.  Samuel  Parr  (quoted  by  Phelps),  says:  "He 
never  seems  hurried  by  his  subject  into   obvious   Ian- 


I9O  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

guage."  And  Phelps  continues  (speaking  in  reference 
to  sermons):  "This  hits  the  mark  of  defect  in  many 
sermons.  A  preacher's  subject,  if  he  have  one  and  has 
so  mastered  it  as  to  have  clear  thought  upon  it,  will 
force  him  into  an  obvious  style.  He  cannot  help  it  if 
the  subject  fall  within  the  range  of  the  hearer's  compre- 
hension. He  must  speak  the  plain  truth,  as  we  call  it, 
like  a  plain  man  talking  to  plain  men."  It  is  well  to 
remember,  then,  that  in  order  to  have  perspicuity  the 
subject  should  be  so  definitely  bounded  and  clearly 
conceived  that  the  writer  or  speaker  will  be  "  hurried 
by  his  subject  into  obvious  language." 

This  thorough  mastery  of  the  theme  essential  to 
"  obvious "  expression  includes  its  analysis  and  syn- 
thesis by  means  of  all  the  relations  involved  in  thinking 
it.  This  will  require  at  the  outset  a  classification  of  the 
theme  —  whether  individual  or  general;  and  if  indi- 
vidual, whether  fixed  or  changing;  if  general,  whether 
in  itself  considered  or  applied  to  test  truth.  After  the 
classification  of  the  theme  follows  its  mastery  under  all 
the  relations  which  define  and  constitute  it.  Such  a 
mastery  alone  can  secure  for  that  particular  theme 
that  definite,  accurate,  methodical,  complete,  and  or- 
ganic thought  essential  to  the  clear  and  truthful  pre- 
sentation to  the  mind  of  another. 

We  are  led  to  observe  again  the  unity  of  the  three 
phases  of  discourse,  —  purpose,  thought,  language. 
Purpose  is  limited  by  the  nature  of  thought  and  lan- 
guage; thought  conditioned  by  the  purpose  and  the 
means  of  its  expression;  and  language  conditioned  by 
both  purpose  and  thought. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  191 

Conditions  for  Securing  Energy.  -  -  1 .  Energy  springs 
immediately  from  the  desires  and  the  will  of  the 
speaker.  The  force  with  which  the  speaker  is  urged 
on  to  the  end  he  seeks  measures  the  strength  of  his 
utterance.  If  he  has  truth  which  he  wishes  to  commu- 
nicate, or  if  he  feels  deeply  some  soul-stirring  senti- 
ment, or  is  restless  under  some  ethical  impulse,  he 
will,  without  thought  of  his  style,  express  himself  with 
vigor  and  power.  Truth  which  will  not  stay  unsaid 
will  be  said  forcibly.  The  more  earnest  the  desire  to 
plant  a  truth  in  another  mind,  for  the  sake  of  the  other 
mind,  the  more  strength  will  the  speaker  impart  to  the 
means  he  uses.  Weakness  is  the  most  noticeable  fea- 
ture of  one's  style  who  is  not  really  in  earnest. 

Energy  in  oratory  requires  of  the  speaker,  more  than 
anything  else,  a  strong  ethical  impulse.  Especially 
here  does  Energy  spring  from  the  desires  and  the  will. 
The  strength  of  these  are  the  measure  of  the  strength 
of  the  expression.  So  fundamental  is  this  condition 
that  often  the  speaker,  without  elegant  or  even  correct 
expression,  is  thoroughly  effective.  Energy  rests  in 
the  will's  resolution  to  go  forth  and  execute  what  the 
desires  prompt.  Much  depends,  however,  on  the  de- 
sires which  prompt  to  expression.  A  man's  action 
is  under  the  same  law  of  energy  as  his  style;  but  energy 
of  action  may  result  from  special  interests  and  private 
ends,  while  only  the  most  disinterested  and  highest 
moral  sentiment  can  impel  to  forcible  utterance.  Says 
Bascom :  "The  speaker  who  pursues  private  ends  must 
either  appeal  to  selfish  impulses,  which  make  a  poor 
appearance,  or  he  must  go  out  of  the  range  of  his  own 


I92  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

desires  in  finding  the  means  of  persuasion,  and  thus 
lose  much  of  the  zeal  and  energy  with  which  the  topic 
ought  to  be  urged;  or  he  must  disguise  and  misrepre- 
sent the  motives  of  action,  and  involve  himself  in  all 
the  tortuous,  perplexing  paths  of  evil.  Those  desires, 
therefore,  which  are  fitted  to  infuse  life  into  oratory, 
to  inspire  and  impassion  poetry  even,  must  have 
breadth,  philanthropy,  and  virtue  in  them,  or  they 
cannot  address  common  interests  or  enkindle  common 
feelings.  The  great  ideas  of  justice,  the  public  weal, 
liberty,  and  virtue  must  fully  penetrate  the  mind, 
arouse  the  heart,  and  furnish  the  desires  those  objects 
fitted  to  call  forth  and  nourish  speech.  According  to 
the  intensity  of  the  desire  with  which  common  ends, 
the  interest  of  public  and  private  well-being,  are  pur- 
sued will  be  the  energy  of  discourse.  Virtue  must  rely 
chiefly  on  persuasion,  and  has  ever  at  hand  the  means 
and  also  the  motives  to  employ  it.  That  training  which 
deepens  and  strengthens  virtuous  desires  and  brings 
the  will  under  its  steady  government  gives  to  the  man, 
in  its  most  reliable  form,  all  the  working  power  of  his 
nature,  impresses  all  his  words  with  his  own  life, 
his  own  energy."  x 

A  definite  conception  of  the  immediate  end  and  of 
the  relation  of  means  to  that  end  are  essential  to 
Energy.  The  discipline  in  thoroughness  and  accuracy 
and  directness  of  thought,  insisted  on  under  Clearness, 
are  equally  important  here.  "While  feeling  impels,  it 
cannot  take  the  place  of  clear,  explicit  guidance. 
Nothing  but  a  definite  aim  can  arouse  and  concentrate 

1  Bascom's  "Philosophy  of  Rhetoric." 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 93 

the  mind;  and  nothing  but  a  full  knowledge  of  the 
thought  to  be  presented  and  faculties  trained  to  wield 
thought  with  rapidity,  precision,  and  power  can  warrant 
a  high  degree  of  energy."  1  <<  Discourse  which  has  an 
object  —  a  palpable  object,  an  object  incessantly  pres- 
ent to  the  speaker's  thought,  to  which  he  hastens  on 
for  the  hearer's  sake  —  is  sure  in  some  degree  to  be 
energetic  discourse."  2 

2.  The  immediate  condition  for  securing  Energy  is 
Clearness  and  Elegance.  Obscure  thought  cannot  be 
presented  with  force  ;  and  without  a  certain  degree  of 
Elegance,  the  mind  will  not  readily  receive  the  truth 
presented.  But  when  Elegance  rises  to  esthetic  ends, 
Energy  is  sacrificed.  Much  feeling  and  interest  may 
be  thus  aroused,  but  of  no  avail  to  the  purpose.  "The 
imagination  has  free  scope,  the  heart  is  feasted,  but 
the  will  is  not  nerved.  The  emasculated  oration  does 
the  work  of  the  novel.  This  error  of  discourse  arises 
from  the  vanity  of  the  speaker,  and  nourishes  the  indo- 
lence of  all  parties.  It  becomes  fatal  according  to  the 
greatness  and  urgency  of  the  end  proposed.  It  is, 
therefore,  in  pulpit  oratory  especially,  the  most  inex- 
cusable of  faults."  Elegance  must  subordinate  itself 
to  the  purpose  of  the  speaker.  If  it  does  not  submit 
itself  to  the  purpose  and  to  the  theme,  it  ceases  to  be 
elegant ;  for  an  object  not  nicely  adjusted  to  its  end 
cannot  be  beautiful.  Oratory  must  be  in  earnest  ; 
and  being  so  prevents  all  indulgence  of  poetic  taste,  all 
display  of  workmanship,  all  reveling  in  poetic  delights. 

1  Bascom's  "  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric." 

2  Phelps'  "  English  Style." 


194  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Conditions  for  Securing  Elegance.  —  i .  The  first  in 
order  is  culture  on  the  part  of  the  writer.  As  Clear- 
ness of  style  is  conditioned  by  clearness  of  thinking, 
so  Elegance  is  conditioned  by  richness  and  delicacy  of 
feeling  and  beauty  of  conception.  Rules  of  Elegance 
will  avail  little  with  a  coarse  and  uncultivated  writer. 
Longfellow  is  distinctively  artistic  in  discourse,  because, 
to  a  naturally  refined  soul  and  delicate  taste,  he  added 
all  the  refinement  of  a  rich  and  varied  culture.  Exces- 
sive faith  in  short  processes,  without  the  patience  to 
wait  the  fruit  of  legitimate  labor,  often  leads  the  youth 
to  seek  literary  accomplishment  by  some  special  course 
in  language  training.  Again,  it  must  be  insisted  that 
style  is  not  something  externally  formed,  but  the  natu- 
ral growth  of  an  inner  impulse.  The  style  of  the  man 
is  the  quality  of  the  mind  manifesting  itself  in  external 
form  ;  and  the  form  will  necessarily  assume  the  deli- 
cacy, grace,  and  color  of  the  soul  from  which  it  receives 
its  vitality.  No  painting  can  add  to  the  cheek  the 
crimson  flush  of  life ;  no  mechanism  can  give  to  the 
artist's  material  the  charm  of  life  and  beauty.  "  Noth- 
ing mounts  into  the  region  of  art  without  undergoing 
some  transformation,  receiving  buoyancy  and  color 
from  the  mind  that  wings  it  for  its  flight."  Elegance 
results  from  the  infused  life  and  character  of  the  artist. 
Accordingly,  he  who  aspires  to  artistic  merit  in  style 
or  to  the  fullest  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  in  dis- 
course must  discipline  and  enlighten  the  mind;  purify, 
refine,  and  intensify  the  emotions,  by  the  most  thor- 
ough culture  of  which  he  is  susceptible.  Whatever, 
therefore,  cultivates  the  taste,  giving  grace,  buoyancy, 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  195 

and  delicacy  of  movement  to  the  mind ;  whatever 
makes  the  emotions  sensitive  and  diversified  ;  what- 
ever gives  the  emotional  chords  tone,  intensity,  and 
harmony  is  an  indispensable  part  of  the  composer's 
schooling  in  the  art  of  elegant  writing,  and  no  less 
essential  to  appreciative  reading.  So  much  does  Ele- 
gance depend  on  the  quality  of  the  mind  that  rules  for 
securing  it  are  almost  worthless.  Rules  may  do  much 
toward  securing  Clearness,  but  Elegance  is  too  diffused 
and  volatile  to  be  formulated. 

2.  The  more  immediate  condition  of  Elegance  is 
Clearness.  In  Elegance  the  language  still  remains  a 
means  of  communicating  the  thought  ;  and  imperfect 
adaptation  to  that  end,  as  with  any  other  instrument, 
clashes  with  the  pleasant  emotion  of  the  beautiful. 
The  obscure  is  necessarily  the  ugly.  Clear  expression 
gives  perfect  freedom  to  the  idea  which  seeks  to  develop 
itself  in  an  external  form  ;  and  such  freedom  is  of  the 
nature  of  beauty.  Wherever  there  seems  to  be  a 
struggle  of  the  idea,  the  essence,  the  soul  within  an 
object,  to  free  itself,  we  have  the  sense  of  the  false 
and  ugly.  Expression  which  cramps  the  idea  —  obscure 
expression  —  is,  therefore,  inelegant.  Tautology  is  not 
simply  obscurity  ;  it  is  deformity.  A  series  of  long 
sentences  means  not  only  exhausted  faculties  in  grasp- 
ing the  ideas,  but  offended  sense  of  harmony.  Bun- 
gling work  offends  the  taste,  but  that  expression  which 
so  perfectly  bodies  forth  the  idea  as  to  seem  to  be  one 
with  it  is  essentially  elegant.  This  does  not  mean 
that  Clearness  can  rise  to  the  plane  of  positive  pleas- 
ure;  it  is  only  the  negative  side  of  beauty  in   expres- 


I96  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

sion,  having  rather  the  absence  of  offensive  elements 
than  positive  sources  of  pleasure. 

The  Rhetorical   Qualities   Secured. 

With  such  preparation  as  the  preceding,  —  in  general, 
through  honesty  and  discipline ;  in  particular,  some 
definite,  specific  aim  fixed  upon,  and  a  thorough  mas- 
tery of  the  thought  which  is  to  serve  as  a  means  to  the 
end,  —  the  writer  comes  to  the  immediate  process  of 
putting  his  thoughts  in  language. 

This  process  is  controlled  by  the  process  of  interpre- 
tation, for  it  is  in  this  process  that  language  appears 
clear,  becomes  impressive,  and  appeals  to  the  taste. 

The  process  of  giving  the  thought  and  that  of  receiv- 
ing it  are  opposite  in  method ;  the  first  being  by  a 
process  of  analysis,  the  second  by  a  process  of  syn- 
thesis. Before  beginning  to  embody  his  thought,  the 
writer  must  grasp  his  matter  as  an  organic  whole,  in 
which  act  he  analyzes  and  presents  part  by  part  in  the 
light  of  the  whole.  But  the  reader  receives  part  by 
part,  and  constructs  the  whole  as  he  proceeds.  The 
writer  sees  the  whole  from  the  beginning ;  the  reader 
not  till  the  end.  The  reader  begins  where  the  writer 
quits  —  with  individual  ideas.  But  the  writer  must  be 
conscious  of  the  interpreting  process  of  the  reader ; 
else  the  writer  cannot  economize  and  stimulate  the 
mental  energies  in  that  process.  The  first  thing  the 
writer  needs  to  know,  therefore,  is  the  mental  process 
of  interpreting  the  language  of  discourse.  Only  such 
knowledge  can  enable  the  writer  to  move  with  ease 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  1 97 

and  self-assurance  ;  because  it  brings,  instead  of  the 
bondage  of  dead  arbitrary  rules  of  style,  the  freedom 
of  the  reason  that  underlies  them.  All  rules  of  style 
are  based  on  laws  of  discourse  interpretation  —  on  the 
necessary  activity  of  the  mind  in  realizing  thought 
from  language.  Yet  they  are  too  often  studied  as  the 
arbitrary,  abstract  dicta  of  the  rhetorician,  and  in  such 
cases  are  of  questionable  utility.  We  are  told  that  a 
short  word  is  better  than  a  long  one  ;  that  a  Saxon 
word  is  better  than  a  foreign  one ;  yet  to  follow  these 
rules  rather  than  the  principles  underlying  them  would 
frequently  lead  to  serious  error,  and  thus  impede  rather 
than  help  the  writer. 

Language  interpretation  involves  the  activity  of  all 
the  faculties,  —  sense-perception,  memory,  imagination, 
judgment,  and  reason;  and  also  feeling  and  volition. 

The  specific  forms  of  these  activities  through  which 
language  becomes  clear,  strong,  and  beautiful  is  deter- 
mined by  the  nature  of  the  language  to  be  interpreted. 
This  nature  has  a  threefold  aspect  :  — 

First,  language  may  be  viewed  as  a  material  thing, 
without  reference  to  its  content.  As  such  it  must  be 
apprehended  through  sense-perception.  The  body,  or 
vehicle,  of  thought  must  be  matter  of  observation 
before  it  can  have  significance  ;  and  this  through  the 
eye  and  ear,  and  most  prominently  the  latter.  Through 
this  act  of  sense-perception  certain  language  qualities 
are  conducive  to  clearness,  energy,  or  elegance;  and 
frequently  of  all  at  once. 

Second,  but  language  would  not  be  language  without 
expressing  thought.     And  first  it  bears  a  direct  rela- 


I98  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

tion  to  thought,  which  relation  is  twofold.  There  is 
the  direct  back-and-forth  relation  of  words  and  phrases 
to  the  ideas  expressed,  and  also  the  relation  of  the 
language  parts  to  the  organization  of  the  ideas  in  the 
thought.  This  twofold  direct  relation  of  language  to 
thought  requires  certain  specific  forms  of  interpreting 
activities  —  of  memory,  imagination,  and  judgment.  It 
is  in  and  through  these  activities  that  the  writer  makes 
his  language  efficient  ■ —  clear,  forcible,  and  beautiful. 

Third,  language  not  only  bears  a  direct  relation  to 
the  thought  in  discourse,  but  also  an  indirect  rela- 
tion. The  thing  directly  expressed  is  a  means,  or 
language,  for  expressing  something  else.  When  Lowell 
speaks  of  opening  the  portals  of  the  future  with  the 
blood-rusted  key  of  the  past,  the  objects  presented  by 
the  words  "portals"  and  "blood-rusted  key"  are  not 
the  objects  of  consideration,  but  only  a  more  effective 
statement  than  could  be  secured  by  direct  language. 
This  indirect  relation  of  language  to  thought  requires 
peculiar  interpreting  activities,  chiefly  in  the  form  of 
the  creative  imagination  and  the  intuitive  reason.  The 
direct  relation  of  language  form  to  thought  constitutes 
literal  language ;  while  the  indirect  relation  constitutes 
figurative  language.  Through  figurative  language,  in 
addressing  the  creative  power  of  the  mind,  language 
reaches  its  highest  power  of  efficiency. 

LANGUAGE    AS    AN    OBJECT    OF    PERCEPTION. 

Language  as  a  mere  object  of  perception  must  be 
such  as  not  to  arrest  the  attention  in  an  act  of  sense- 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  I99 

perception,  and,  with  this  negative  mark,  it  may  be 
such  as  to  impress  the  thought  or  please  the  taste. 
The  composer  must  take  full  advantage  of  these  acts 
of  sense-perception  in  order  to  secure  the  three 
phases  of  effective  utterance. 

To  this  end  his  language  must  be  (i)  Correct,  (2) 
Distinct,  (3)  Brief,  (4)  Euphonious,  (5)  Harmonious, 
and  (6)  Rhythmical. 

Correctness.  —  Misspelled  words,  not  only  by  diver- 
sion of  attention  through  the  eye,  but  by  the  train  of 
thought  they  suggest,  are  distracting.  For  the  same 
reason  typographical  errors  should  be  avoided. 

The  correct  pronunciation  of  a  word  attracts  no 
attention  ;  at  least,  should  not.  In  fact,  the  test  of  a 
speaker's  pronunciation  is  that  an  educated  audience 
do  not  notice  how  the  words  are  pronounced.  Any 
affectation  or  seeming  effort  to  be  correct  is  distract- 
ing to  the  hearer.  Economy  of  effort  in  the  process 
of  interpretation  is  the  reason  for  a  uniform  standard 
of  pronunciation,  as  set  forth  in  the  dictionary.  Ideas 
which  now  pass  freely  from  mind  to  mind  would  be 
clogged  in  their  passage  by  a  multiplicity  of  strange 
forms  for  the  same  meaning.  Accordingly,  the  speaker 
who  aspires  to  effective  utterance  should  see  to  it  that 
he  has  a  faultless  pronunciation. 

Distinctness.  —  It  requires  an  extra  amount  of  effort 
to  perceive  a  word  that  is  not  clearly  written  in  itself 
or  made  to  stand  out  distinctly  from  others.  This 
may  not  be  a  question  of  style,  for  it  lies  beyond  the 
control  of  the  writer  ;  but  if  the  printed  discourse  is 
to  have   its  full  effect,  the  size  and  clearness  of  the 


t'H-  S 

.  -   .uul  th.  .    a  .-.■•.•.■  ••  must  '•. 

-     •    .    .  .   minimum  the       .  -  .■   to 

.    thf  wvtds. 

-     '.      .    ■    •    words    should    be   dist    h  . '\ 
enu".  •    s  .  • 

>  the  w .-        .  ••  \ 

It  is  that  q         f  which  if  we  .    to   > to  the 

miud  and     .    .    e  the  tv.v  >••    from  stu> 

guish  and   se    e   .   i  ■  ■  the  e 

.-.    .  -   .-    .  •   the  »  •  .    sei  w '••'■•  the) 

..  ■ .  '     l<     .         .  .        .    .  ' 
when  thf  \\  9  -■    lot  ■•-■  '.  *  .  •  &uffr 

■.  ••  u ith 
I  -    eceh  @  full)  the  ee 

bis  i  been    « asted    •■•    $< -.   the 

wea  ds  insl 

..■  «  i         •  .••-.  •'  ■  i  the  hat  the 

mind  bed    -  -  it.    Often 

m  well  chosen  we     i  so 
the  sense   ■•  '•••.-.  \  innd, 

This  b  es  thf 

\        .  «  effort  simp!) 

■  ■■■  \  •  eq\  ••  .•  a  pi  cm  ess  ■■•  anal) 
syllabi    •     -  distinguish  it  from  <  .  words 

which  it  close!)  resembles      When,  however,  onf 

s  s  the  •  >i  §e\ era!  &h<         ifs,  thf  use  ••' 

thf   '  •••  .  woi  d  ctconom]    >-        tention      Short 

the  i  -■■ .  and 

e  thus  nied    b\   a   sense  ol   freedom  and 

her.  ->•••  illei       •     slmplei    thf   Insti  ument 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  201 

which  does  a  given  piece  of  work,  the  greater  our 
admiration  for  it. 

Passing  to  the  sentence  we  find  the  thought  en- 
veloped in  a  form  which  must  be  perceived  part  by- 
part.  Whatever  is  unnecessary  in  this  form  occasions 
a  waste  of  effort  on  the  part  of  the  recipient  of  the 
thought.  The  compression  of  the  bulk  without  lessen- 
ing the  weight  of  the  content  enables  the  composer  to 
send  the  message  with  such  precision  and  effect  that 
the  hearer  is  unconscious  of  effort  to  receive  it.  Just 
as  words  with  the  fewest  letters  and  syllables  reserve 
the  full  energy  of  the  mind  for  the  appropriation  of 
the  idea,  so  a  sentence  with  the  fewest  words  for  a 
given  thought  does  not  divert  the  power  of  the  mind 
into  the  channel  of  sense-perception,  which  should  be 
reserved  for  the  full  realization  of  thought.  Therefore, 
the  sentence,  for  the  sake  of  clearness,  should  contain 
the  fewest  words  consistent  with  the  other  require- 
ments of  sentential  structure.  And  as  secondary 
qualities  energy  and  elegance  are  secured  through 
such  brevity. 

As  in  words  and  sentences,  so  in  discourse  taken  as 
a  whole  ;  the  shorter  in  proportion  to  the  content  the 
greater  is  the  economy  of  sense-perception.  The  com- 
poser's problem  is  to  compress  the  bulk  without  dimin- 
ishing the  weight.  Lowell  says  that  Shakespeare 
squeezes  meaning  into  a  phrase  with  an  hydraulic  press. 
This  should  be  the  composer's  effort  in  the  entire  dis- 
course. This,  however,  is  limited  by  the  strength  of 
the  interpreter  to  appropriate  concentrated  food.  Yet 
one  must  not  speak  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing  which 


202  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

requires  the  interpreter  to  search  as  if  for  a  grain  of 
wheat  in  a  bushel  of  chaff,  and  which  if  found  would 
scarcely  be  worth  the  search.  Discourse  which  is 
especially  offensive  in  this  respect  is  called  bombast, 
the  remedy' for  which  lies  beyond  cautions  in  the  use 
of  language  ;  for  an  inflated  style  can  be  remedied 
only  by  removing  the  inflation  of  the  writer. 

Eup ho ny.--  Euphony  —  literally  sound  and  well — 
is  that  quality  of  a  word  which  makes  it  pleasant  to 
the  ear.  Strictly  speaking,  euphonious  sounds  are  free 
sounds,  —  sounds  made  when  nothing  obstructs  the 
emerging  column  of  breath.  Hence,  euphony  is  more 
closely  allied  to  elegance  than  to  clearness  or  energy. 
All  words  difficult  to  speak  are  rough,  harsh,  and  un- 
pleasant to  the  ear.  This  property  belongs  strictly  to 
oral  words  ;  yet  by  association,  the  written  word  sug- 
gests the  sensation  of  its  sound,  and  thus  becomes  a 
diverting  and  unpleasant  element.  Euphony  depends 
on  (i)  the  choice  of  the  word  and  (2)  on  the  way  it  is 
spoken. 

1 .  The  pleasant  sounds  include  the  vowels  and  the 
liquid  consonants  /,  m,  n,  r  ;  and  the  unpleasant  sounds 
are  especially  the  gutterals  g  and  x  and  the  sibilants 
s  and  s. 

This  classification  depends  on  the  degree  of  freedom 
in  the  emergence  of  the  sound,  which  strictly  followed 
would  not  put  letters  in  classes,  but  would  mark  each 
letter  as  differing  from  every  other  in  respect  to  the 
beauty  of  its  sound.  Suppose  that  in  the  emergence 
of  the  column  of  breath  every  obstruction  be  removed 
as  fully  as  possible,  there  will   be  produced  the  most 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2C»3 

beautiful  sound  in  language  —  long  Italian  a  ;  the 
first  sound  in  every  language.  By  slightly  closing 
the  mouth  horizontally  the  modified  as  and  «?'s  and  i's 
are  produced,  which  are  less  beautiful  because  there  is 
a  sense  of  obstruction  in  the  sound.  By  closing  the 
mouth  partially  laterally  the  sound  of  o  and  kindred 
sounds  are  produced.  The  consonants  are  produced 
by  completely  shutting  off  the  column  of  breath,  and 
are  ugly  because  their  sound  is  obstructed.  In  the 
liquid  consonants  there  is  still  an  easy  flow  of  the 
breath ;  hence,  liquid  sounds.  The  different  sounds 
in  the  alphabet  are  produced  by  different  kinds  and 
degrees  of  obstruction,  and  there  is  a  constant  increas- 
ing of  bondage  of  sound  from  the  long  Italian  a  to  the 
gutterals  and  sibilants.  The  chief  fault  in  English  is 
its  hissing  s  and  z  sound,  represented  by  five  letters, 
—  c  before  e  and  i  ;  s,  z,  x(=  ks),  and  /  before  ion  ;  as, 
cessation,  science,  Xerxes,  exactly. 

When  all  the  individual  sounds  are  pleasant  only  the 
right  proportion  of  vowels  and  consonants  will  secure 
euphony.  An  excess  of  liquids  or  vowels  is  not 
euphonious  ;  as,  "  Tho'  oft  the  ear  the  open  vowels 
tire."  Harshness  is  produced  by  the  union  of  too  many 
consonants;  as,  form'dst,  splutters,  stretched,  church, 
smoothedst,  inextricableness,  excogitation,  twitches, 
sarcastical. 

Long  words  accented  on  the  first  syllable,  as  per- 
fectness,  peremptorily,  disciplinary,  expiatory,  are  diffi- 
cult to  utter  and  unpleasant  to  hear.  Euphony  is 
violated  in  words  in  which  a  syllable  is  immediately 
repeated;   as,    holily,    lowlily,   wilily.      Vowels   coming 


204  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

together  in  the  middle  of  a  word  or  between  two  words, 
as  hiatus,  idea,  idea  of,  you  unto,  produce  an  unpleas- 
ant effect.  The  same  consonant  ending  one  word  and 
beginning  the  next,  as,  his  son,  keep  people  looking, 
is  not  euphonious.  The  repetition  of  the  same  word 
causes  an  unpleasant  sensation;  as,  Whatever  is,  is 
right,  How  it  was  was  not  explained,  He  perceives  that 
that  sentence  is  not  euphonious.  It  is  obvious  here, 
as  in  all  the  preceding,  that  the  utterance  is  made  with 
difficulty ;  hence,  the  lack  of  beauty. 

Words  impress  the  idea  by  means  of  the  sound 
which  they  signify.  Such  words  are  called  Onomato- 
poetic ;  as,  buzz,  crackle,  hiss,  crash,  rub-a-dub-dub. 
Hawthorne  describes  the  rain  thus: — - 

"  All  day  long,  and  for  a  week  together,  the  rain  was  drip-drip- 
dripping  and  splash-splash-splashing  from  the  eaves  into  the  tubs 
beneath  the  spouts." 

Milton,  in  describing  the  opening  of  hell's  gate,  uses 
this  kind  of  energy  with  good  effect:  — 

"  On  a  sudden  open  fly 
With  impetuous  coil,  and  jarring  sound, 
The  infernal  doors  ;  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder." 

Words  not  imitative,  but  whose  sound  is  suggestive 
of  the  feeling  to  be  expressed  are  impressive,  as  may 
be  observed  in  the  closing  lines  of  each  stanza  of  Poe's 
"Raven,"  which  repeatedly  employ  the  long  sound  of 
<?asa  fitting  sound  for  the  refrain  of  sadness:  — 

"  Then  this  ebon  bird  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling, 
By  the  grave  and  stern  decorum  of  the  countenance  it  wore, 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  205 

'Though  thy  crest  be  shorn  and  shaven,  thou,'  I  said,  'art  sure 

no  craven; 
Ghastly,  grim,  and  ancient  Raven,  wandering  from  the  nightly 

shore, 
Tell  me  what  thy  lordly   name    is  on   the    Night's    Plutonian 

shore  ?  ' 
Quoth  the  Raven,  '  Nevermore.'  " 

The  same  art  of  impression  is  employed  effectively 
in  the  following  stanza  from  Tennyson's  "  Ode  on  the 
Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  ":  — 

"  Lead  out  the  pageant  ;  sad  and  slow, 
As  fits  an  universal  woe, 
Let  the  long,  long  procession  go, 
And  let  the  sorrowing  crowd  about  it  grow, 
And  let  the  mournful  martial  music  blow; 
The  last  great  Englishman  is  low." 

Words  which  prolong  emphasis,  as  "  nevermore," 
favor  energy.  Words  whose  magnitude  of  sound  are 
suggestive  of  the  magnitude  of  the  idea  lend  force  to 
expression.  When  an  important  truth  is  pushed  to 
the  end  of  the  sentence  to  give  it  prominence,  a  full, 
round  cadence  is  essential  to  its  emphasis. 

Words  that  require  energy  of  utterance  contribute 
to  energy  of  impression,  as  may  be  observed  by  con- 
trasting the  following:  bent,  bended;  burnt,  burned; 
spelt,  spelled. 

2.  Not  only  the  selection  of  a  word,  but  the  manner 
of  uttering  it  is  subject  to  the  law  of  euphony.  The 
word  most  euphonious  in  itself  may  be  pronounced  dis- 
agreeably, and  the  harsh  ones  may  be  softened  by  a 
pleasant  voice.     A  pure,  pleasant  tone  is  indispensable 


206  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

to  him  who  would  communicate  thought  orally.  The 
most  musical  composition  is  often  marred  or  obscured 
by  a  shrill  or  husky  voice.  Some  speakers  have  the 
offensive  habit  of  giving  prominence  to  rough  sounds, 
especially  the  hissing  sound  of  s  or  z,  while  euphony 
requires  that  these  be  slurred  and  prominence  given 
to  the  full,  round,  musical  tones. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  a  euphonious  word 
which  will  exactly  fit  the  idea  to  be  expressed  can 
always  be  found.  The  sound  must  not  interfere  with 
the  sense.  Of  two  words  otherwise  equal,  the  pleas- 
ant sounding  one  should  be  chosen  ;  and  here  the  obli- 
gation to  euphony  ends,  except  what  aid  pronunciation 
can  bring. 

These  oral  qualities,  except  to  a  certain  extent  in 
euphony,  are  under  the  control,  not  of  the  writer,  but 
of  the  reader  or  speaker.  At  this  point  the  art  of 
oral  expression  arises  out  of  the  science  of  discourse. 
Elocution  which  has  for  its  purpose  the  effective  oral 
delivery  of  thought  is  only  a  pushing  out  into  a  more 
complete  form  and  fixing  in  habit  of  speech  the  princi- 
ples of  oral  expression  which  here  begin  to  rise  to  the 
surface. 

Not  only  are  individual  discourses,  but  languages 
are  marked  by  their  difference  in  euphony.  The  most 
euphonious  languages  are  Greek  and  Latin,  and  the 
modern  languages  derived  from  the  Latin,  Italian, 
Portugese,  Spanish,  and  French.  Teutonic  languages 
are  harsh.  In  respect  to  euphony,  the  English  lan- 
guage is  intermediate,  having  a  mixture  of  both  Teu- 
tonic  and    Latin    elements.      Byron's    exaggeration    of 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  20"J 

the  rough  quality  of  the  English  well  illustrates  and 
emphasizes  the  truth  of  its  harshness  :  — 

"  Our  harsh,  northern,  whistling,  grunting  gutteral, 
Which  we  're  obliged  to  hiss,  and  spit,  and  splutter  all." 

Here  Byron  makes  good  use  of  the  sound  to  impress 
the  sense.  His  statement  is  perfectly  transparent  and 
admirably  forcible. 

Harmony. — The  eye  and  the  ear  follow  words  in 
their  succession.  The  succession  of  form  to  the  eye 
produces  no  effect  different  in  kind  from  that  produced 
in  observing  single  words.  The  accumulated  effect  by 
the  addition  of  words  is  an  appreciable  quantity,  and 
can  only  be  reduced  as  stated  above.  But  the  succes- 
sion of  sounds  to  the  ear  produces  an  effect  different 
in  kind  from  the  effect  of  the  individual  sounds  —  an 
effect  depending  wholly  on  the  character  of  the  succes- 
sion. The  sounds  themselves  may  be  smooth  and 
pleasant,  yet  the  total  effect  be  jarring  and  unpleas- 
ant ;  and  when  unpleasant,  the  sound  becomes  an  ob- 
struction to  the  thought  instead  of  its  perfect  vehicle. 
That  quality  of  the  sentence  by  which  the  energies  of 
the  mind  are  not  wasted  because  of  the  character  of 
the  succession  of  sounds  is  called  Harmony. 

Harmony  is  the  adjustment  of  the  sounds  of  words 
to  each  other  in  their  successions  so  that  they  will  fall 
smoothly  and  pleasantly  on  the  ear.  Or,  harmony  is 
that  structure  of  the  sentence  which  permits  its  utter- 
ance with  the  natural  rise  and  fall  of  the  breath,  i.e., 
when  it  permits  free  utterance.  Harmony  as  a  means 
of   clearness  need  not   reach  the  degree  of    positive 


208  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

pleasure  as  in  music  and  poetry,  but  only  the  degree 
which  secures  the  absence  of  its  opposite  —  negative 
harmony.  Harmonious  sounds  stimulate  the  faculties 
to  appropriate  the  truth,  while  inharmonious  sounds 
repel  from  such  appropriation.  Unless  one  write  poetry 
of  pronounce  an  oration,  he  seldom  thinks  of  construct- 
ing his  discourse  with  reference  to  the  sound.  But 
harmony  is  not  a  matter  of  elegance  or  energy  only. 
The  experience  of  every  one  has  convinced  him  that  the 
smooth  onflowing  of  the  sentence  which  sets  well  to 
the  ear  is  an  essential  condition  to  ease  of  interpreta- 
tion. This  results  chiefly  from  the  clearness  given  to 
the  medium;  but  the  stimulation  of  the  pleasant  sound 
to  the  faculties,  when  not  so  great  as  to  enlist  the 
attention,  enables  them  to  do  their  work  with  greater 
ease  and  more  thoroughly.  This  energizing  power  of 
language  over  the  mind  belongs  to  force  of  expression 
rather  than  to  clearness. 

Unpleasant  combination  of  words  cannot  always  be 
avoided  without  obscuring  the  sense.  While  sound 
must  not  be  ignored,  it  must  never  be  allowed  to  modify 
or  obscure  the  meaning.  The  more  rigid  requirements 
of  exact  truth  and  genuine  sentiment  must  check  any 
temptation  to  use  words  merely  to  round  out  a  musical 
period. 

No  definite  rules  on  the  subject  of  harmony  can  be 
prescribed.  The  reliance  must  be  in  the  ear  made 
susceptible  by  training  to  harmonious  discourse.  Some 
general  suggestions,  however,  may  be  helpful. 

As  in  words  ease  of  pronunciation  is  the  test  of 
euphony,  so  in  sentences,  ease  and  agreeableness  to  the 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2CX) 

organs  of  speech  is  the  test  of  harmony.  It  is,  there- 
fore, essential  to  harmony  that  the  parts  of  the  sentence 
be  so  arranged  that  the  connection  between  them  will 
fall  at  the  proper  intervals  to  make  the  breathing  easy 
and  natural.  The  following  sentence  from  Tillotson, 
quoted  by  Blair,  illustrates  the  lack  of  harmony  arising 
from  the  number  and  distributions  of  the  rests:  — 

"  This  discourse  concerning  the  easiness  of  God's  commands, 
does,  all  along,  suppose  and  acknowledge  the  difficulties  of  the 
first  upon  a  religious  course ;  except  only  in  those  persons  who 
have  had  the  happiness  to  be  trained  up  to  religion  by  the  easy 
and  insensible  degrees  of  a  pious  and  virtuous  education." 

Concerning  this  sentence,  Blair  says:  "  Here  there  is 
no  harmony;  nay,  there  is  some  degree  of  harshness 
and  unpleasantness;  owing  principally  to  this,  that 
there  is,  properly,  no  more  than  one  pause  or  rest  in 
the  sentence,  falling  betwixt  the  two  members  into 
which  it  is  divided,  each  of  which  is  so  long  as  to 
occasion  a  considerable  stretch  of  the  breath  in  pro- 
nouncing it." 

The  following  paragraph  from  the  same  author  con- 
tains a  sentence  which,  with  the  comments  upon  it, 
makes  clear  the  distinction  between  the  harmonious 
and  the  inharmonious  sentence:  — 

"  But,  God  be  thanked,  his  pride  is  greater  than  his  ignorance, 
and  what  he  wants  in  knowledge,  he  supplies  by  sufficiency. 
When  he  has  looked  about  him,  as  far  as  he  can,  he  concludes 
there  is  no  more  to  be  seen  ;  when  he  is  at  the  end  of  his  line,  he 
is  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean;  when  he  has  shot  his  best,  he  is 
sure  none  ever  did,  or  ever  can,  shoot  better,  or  beyond  it.  His 
own  measure  he  holds  to  be  the  certain  measure  of  truth;  and 
his  own  knowledge  of  what  is  possible  in  nature." 


2IO  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE 

"  Here  everything  is  at  once,  easy  to  the  breath,  and 
grateful  to  the  ear ;  and,  it  is  this  sort  of  flowing  meas- 
ure, this  regular  and  proportional  division  of  the  mem- 
bers of  his  sentence  which  renders  Sir  William  Temple's 
style  always  agreeable.  I  must  observe  at  the  same 
time,  that  a  sentence  with  too  many  rests,  and  these 
placed  at  intervals  too  apparently  measured  and  regu- 
lar, is  apt  to  savour  of  affectation." 

The  parts  separated  by  pauses  should  have  harmoni- 
ous proportion;  not  only  rests  at  easy  intervals,  but 
variety  in  quality  and  length  of  parts;  yet,  with  all, 
unity  of  flow  in  the  sound, — the  fuller  swell  of  sound 
alternating  with  subsidence,  each  merging  gradually 
into  the  other  in  an  undulation  of  pleasant  proportion. 
The  longest  and  most  sonorous  member  should  be  put 
last,  and  the  others  arranged  according  to  the  principle 
of  climax.  This  sentence  from  Irving  illustrates  well 
the  proper  division  into  members,  and  how  the  sound 
may  increase  to  a  full  and  harmonious  close:  — 

"  But  the  sorrows  of  the  poor,  who  have  no  outer  appliances  to 
soothe,  —  the  sorrows  of  the  aged,  with  whom  life  at  best  is  but  a 
wintry  day,  and  who  can  look  for  no  after-growth  of  joy,  —  the 
sorrows  of  a  widow,  aged,  solitary,  destitute,  mourning  over  an 
only  son,  the  last  solace  of  her  years;  these  are  indeed  sorrows 
that  make  us  feel  the  impotency  of  consolation." 

The  weakening  of  the  sound  at  the  close  by  gradu- 
ally shortening  the  members  and  closing  with  a  short 
word  is  both  inharmonious  in  sound  and  feeble  in 
thought.  This  may  be  illustrated  by  reversing  the 
order  in  the  foregoing  sentence. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  211 

Harmony  in  discourse  requires  not  only  variety 
and  unity  of  movement  in  the  single  sentences,  but 
also  variety  and  unity  in  their  succession.  If  the 
conditions  of  harmony  are  all  met  in  a  sentence,  a 
repetition  of  the  same  arrangement  in  each  succeeding 
sentence  becomes  monotonous  and  offensive.  Sen- 
tences constructed  on  a  similar  plan  should  never  follow 
one  another.  Short  sentences  and  long  ones  should 
be  intermixed.  It  may  be  necessary  to  violate  har- 
mony in  the  single  sentence  to  secure  harmony  when 
connected  with  others.  Monotony  is  incompatible  with 
harmony.  Variety,  with  the  suggestion  of  unity  by 
the  easy,  uninterrupted  movement  of  voice,  is  the  secret, 
the  soul  of  harmony.  The  strained,  monotonous 
humdrum  of  a  speaker  or  reader,  even  when  the  sen- 
tences in  themselves  and  in  their  arrangement  favor 
harmony,  often  prevents  the  effective  delivery  of 
thought.  Modulation  in  the  discourse  as  a  whole,  like 
modulation  in  the  sentence,  is  an  essential  condition 
to  effective  delivery. 

RhytJim.  —  We  now  arrive  at  what  is  strictly  known 
as  poetic  form — measured,  musical  utterance.  There 
maybe  poetry  in  spirit  and  thought  —  in  essence  — 
without  metrical  form,  yet  the  most  intense  poetic 
spirit  naturally  clothes  itself  in  musical  utterance.  The 
rhythmical  sound  itself  may,  as  in  music,  symbolize 
the  emotion,  without  the  necessity  of  articulate  speech; 
but  aside  from  this  the  sound  itself  is  so  pleasing  as  to 
become  an  end  in  itself.  Thus  at  this  point  the  sense 
qualities  of  language  arise  out  of  the  servitude  to 
thought  — -  realize    their    freedom    from    thought,    and 


212  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

take  their  place  wholly  in  the  realm  of  the  beautiful. 
The  sound  still  serves  to  convey  the  thought,  but  it 
here  thrusts  itself  on  the  attention  as  a  pleasing,  sen- 
suous element  to  the  ear.  Of  so  much  value  is  this 
element  of  beauty  that  the  poet  has  license  to  constrain 
the  sense  for  the  sake  of  the  sound.  In  fact,  metric 
utterance  is  so  much  of  bondage  to  thought  as  not 
to  be  admissible  when  the  thought  is  expressed  for  its 
own  sake. 

The  chief  fact  about  poetic  form  is  that  of  Rhythm. 
This  has  reference  to  a  certain  flowing,  wave-like  move- 
ment of  voice,  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  obscures  the 
stiff  requirements  of  articulate  speech.  This  wave-like 
movement  is  highly  complex,  and  is  divided  into  parts 
within  parts.  The  simplest  element  in  this  movement 
is  the  syllable.  This  enters  into  elementary  combina- 
tions with  other  syllables;  this  new  combination  into 
still  more  complex  combinations ;  and  so  on  till  the 
stanza  or  the  poem  is  reached. 

The  simplest  order  of  rhythm  consists  of  one  strong 
and  one  or  more  weak  impulses  of  the  voice.  One  move- 
ment of  the  voice  from  the  stress  to  the  remission  or 
from  the  remission  to  the  stress  is  called  a  Foot.  A 
Foot  is  a  single  compound  movement  of  the  voice. 
The  strong  impulse  of  the  voice  which  falls  on  a  certain 
syllable  is  called  the  Rhythm-accent.  The  syllable 
not  only  receives  more  stress  but  more  time  in  its  pro- 
nunciation. In  Latin  and  Greek,  the  Rhythm-accent 
falls  on  a  long  syllable;  hence,  the  rhythm  in  these  lan- 
guages is  said  to  be  based  on  quantity.  English  rhythm 
is  said  to  be  based  on  accent ;  but  in  giving  the  accent, 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  21 3 

more  time  is  required  in  its  pronunciation,  so  that  the 
two  are  inseparable.  The  syllable  that  is  accented  in 
prose  is  used  for  the  Rhythm-accent,  thus  speaking  the 
sense  of  the  word  and  at  the  same  time  securing  the 
music  of  the  verse. 

A  single  compound  movement  of  the  voice  never 
extends  over  more  than  three  syllables.  Accordingly, 
afoot  will  always  consist  of  either  one,  two,  or  three  syl- 
lables, giving  one  accented  and  one  or  two  unaccented 
syllables  to  each  foot.  The  accent  may  fall  on 
either  syllable  in  the  foot  —  first,  second,  or  third. 
Falling  on  the  last,  we  have,  if  two  syllables,  the  Iam- 
bic foot;  if  three  syllables,  the  Anapaestic  foot.  Fall- 
ing on  the  first,  we  have,  if  two  syllables,  the  Trochaic 
foot;  if  three  syllables,  the  Dactylic  foot.  When  the 
middle  of  the  three  syllables  is  accented,  the  foot  is 
called  the  Amphibrach.  The  following  are  examples 
of  each  in  the  order  named  above:  — 

i .  The  mel'  an  chol'  y  days'  are  come',  the  sad'  dest  of  the 
year'. 

2.  There 's  a  smile'  on  the  fruit',  and  a  smile'  on  the  flower'. 

3.  Tell'  me  not'  in  mourn' ful  num'bers. 

4.  Wist'  ful  ly    wan'  der  ing  o'  ver  the  wa'ters,  she 
Sought'  for  the  land'  of  the  bless'  ed. 

5.  The  wa'ters  are  flash'  ing, 
The  white'  hail  is  dash'  ing. 

Seldom  will  the  verse  be  made  up  of  the  same  kind 
of  feet.  Yet  one  kind  must  prevail,  and  this  one  gives 
character  to  the  verse.  There  is  great  gain  in  substi- 
tuting a  foot  for  the  regular  one,  for  thus  variety  is 
secured.     There  is,  however,  a  limit  to  such  substitu- 


214  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

tion.  Two  accented  syllables  or  three  unaccented 
syllables  should  not  occur  together,  because  such  an 
arrangement  prevents  free,  easy  movement  of  the  voice. 
One  accented  syllable  cannot  be  pronounced  after  an- 
other accented  syllable  without  a  pause,  thus  causing  a 
jerking  movement  and  an  unpleasant  sensation.  Hence, 
a  foot  accented  on  the  last  syllable,  an  Iambus  or  an 
Anapaest,  should  not  be  followed  by  a  foot  accented  on 
the  first  syllable,  a  Trochee  or  a  Dactyl.  And  since 
three  unaccented  syllables  standing  together  interfere 
with  rhythmical  effect,  an  Anapaest  must  not  follow  a 
Trochee;  neither  an  Iambus,  an  Amphibrach,  or  an 
Anapaest  follow  an  Amphibrach.  At  the  beginning  or 
at  the  end  of  a  line,  more  freedom  of  substitution  is 
permitted.  A  Trochee  may  begin  a  line  of  Iambic  feet, 
since  nothing  precedes  the  accented  syllable  and  only 
two  unaccented  syllables  are  brought  together.  The 
end  feet,  not  standing  between  other  feet,  make  possible 
a  great  variety  of  combinations  not  permitted  within 
the  line.  The  principle  stated  is  a  safe  guide.  Two 
accented  syllables  or  three  unaccented  syllables  stand- 
ing together  cannot  be  pronounced  with  rhythmic  move- 
ment of  voice.  Within  this  limit  the  poet  has  all 
possible  freedom,  and  the  highest  rhythmical  beauty 
is  attained  by  variety  in  the  kinds  of  feet.  One  kind 
of  foot,  however,  must  characterize  the  verse;  and  the 
variety  must  be  secured  by  substituting  for  the  regular 
feet  others  that  will  not  interfere  with  the  free  onflow- 
ing  of  the  voice. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  substituted  feet  are  pro- 
nounced in  the  same  time  as  those  for  which  they  are 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  21  5 

substituted,  thus  giving  variety  in  the  rate  of  utterance 
as  well  as  in  the  quality.  The  so-called  Monosyllabic 
foot  occupies  the  same  time  as  the  other  feet  of  the 
stanza  in  which  it  occurs.  This  gives,  when  required, 
a  slow  and  stately  movement,  as  if  borne  down  with 
grief  or  by  dignity  of  sentiment,  as  in  the  first  line 

of  this: — 

"  Break,  break,  break, 
On  the  cold,  grey  stones,  O  sea; 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me." 

The  poet  has  great  power  of  adjustment  in  the  move- 
ment of  the  verse  to  adapt  it  to  the  sentiment  he  wishes 
to  express.  This  may  be  pointed  out  in  the  examples 
at  the  close  of  this  topic,  and  the  method  of  securing 
the  suitable  movement  explained.  It  will  be  interest- 
ing to  note,  also,  what  kind  of  foot  is  most  commonly 
employed,  and  which  is  seldom  met  with. 

The  simplest  order  of  Rhythm  has  been  stated  to  be 
that  of  the  foot.  These  feet  are  again  grouped  into 
higher  orders  of  Rhythm --grouped  by  the  sense 
into  phrases,  making  convenient  stages  of  rest  for  the 
voice,  and  marked  by  what  is  known  as  the  Caesural 
pause;  or  grouped  by  Alliterative  rhythm  or  by  some 
Emphatic  word.  This  second  order  of  groups  is  again 
grouped  in  the  line  or  the  verse,  marked  by  some  nat- 
ural pause  required  by  the  sense  or  by  ease  of  utter- 
ance or  by  Rhyme.  Only  the  last  grouping  of  the 
elementary  rhythmical  movement  need  here  be  noted. 

A  Verse  is  the  coordination  of  several  elementary 
rhythmical  movements  into  one  compound   movement, 


2l6  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

bearing  a  definite  relation  in  number  to  the  primary 
movement.  The  verse  is  characterized,  therefore,  by 
the  number  of  its  primary  movements.  A  verse  con- 
sisting of  one  foot  is  called  a  Monometer;  of  two  feet, 
Dimeter;  of  three  feet,  Trimeter;  of  four  feet,  Tetram- 
eter; of  five  feet,  Pentameter;  of  six  feet,  Hexameter. 
The  number  of  feet  in  the  verse  may  vary  in  the  poem, 
but  there  is  a  prevailing  number  which  gives  character 
to  the  poem. 

As  already  stated,  the  grouping  into  feet  is  sometimes 
indicated  by  Rhyme,  giving  rise  to  the  distinction  of 
Rhyming  verse  and  Blank  verse.  Rhyme  is  the  recur- 
rence of  the  same  sound  at  the  close  of  each  of  two 
or  more  lines.  These  sounds  must  not  be  identical 
throughout,  but  only  so  from  the  accented  syllable 
to  the  close.  When  the  accented  vowel  and  the  sound 
or  sounds  which  follow  are  identical,  the  rhyme  is 
said  to  be  perfect;  provided  the  sounds  which  precede 
the  accented  vowel  are  different.  Thus  dreary  rhymes 
perfectly  with  weary;  day  with  pay ;  and  tenderly  with 
slenderly.  In  the  imperfect  rhyme,  the  sounds,  which 
in  the  perfect  rhyme  are  identical,  differ;  yet  they  are 
sufficiently  alike  to  suggest  similarity,  as  poor  and 
door;  wrong  and  tongue;  afternoon  and  love-tune. 
Rhymes  are  also  single,  double,  and  triple,  illustrated 
respectively  in  day  and  pay ;  dreary  and  zveary;  tenderly 
and  slenderly.  Rhymes  are  further  classified  on  the 
basis  of  their  manner  of  succession.  Some  are  succes- 
sive, some  alternate,  and  some  occur  at  variously  con- 
trived intervals;  yet  usually  with  a  regularity  which 
becomes  the  more  beautiful  in   proportion  as  it  breaks 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2\J 

the  constraint  of  obvious  regular  recurrence,  and  dis- 
plays ingenuity  on  the  part  of  the  writer. 

Verses  are  coordinated  into  the  larger  and  more  com- 
plex group  of  rhythmical  units,  called  Stanzas.  A  stanza 
is  a  group  of  any  number  of  verses,  and  is  named  from 
the  number  of  verses  it  contains.  A  grouping  of  stan- 
zas into  a  poem  constitutes  the  most  complex  rhyth- 
mical unit. 

Another  phase  of  rhythm  should  not  be  overlooked, 
for  it  has  great  poetic  charm;  and  that  is,  what  is  known 
as  rhythmical  fullness.  This  is  the  formal  characteristic 
feature  of  Hebrew  poetry,  and  is  illustrated  by  almost 
any  verse  from  the  Psalms;  as,  "The  heavens  declare 
the  glory  of  God;  and  the  firmament  showeth  His 
handiwork."  In  this  it  will  be  observed  that  the  last 
half  is  a  restatement  of  the  meaning  of  the  first.  It  is 
a  kind  of  swinging  movement  of  thought.  This  is  a 
marked  source  of  beauty  in  both  Tennyson  and  Long- 
fellow.    Note  it  in  these:  — 

1.  "Comrades,  leave  me  here  a  little,  while  as  yet 'tis  early 

morn; 
Leave  me  here,  and  when  you  want  me,  sound  upon  the 
bugle  horn." 

2.  "  The  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary; 

It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall, 
And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary." 

Still  another  form  of  rhythm  is  Alliteration,  which  is 
the  repetition  of  a  sound  at   the  beginning  of  two  or 


2l8  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

more  successive  words;  as,  "Apt  alliteration's  artful 
aid."  The  following  examples  illustrate  its  nature  and 
value  to  style  :  — 

"  That  would  his  rightful  ravine  rend  away." 

"  With  hideous  horror  both  together  smiffht 
And  souce  (strike)  so  sore,  that  they  the  heavens  affray : 
The  wise  soothsayer,  seeing  so  sad  sight." 

"  Friendless,  homeless,   hopeless,  they  wandered  from   city  to 
city ; 
From  the  cold  lakes  of  the  North  to  sultry  Southern  savannas." 

"  A  pilgrim  wanting  a  pin  or  a  pistol,  a  cucumber  or  a  camel, 
a  house  or  a  horse,  a  loan  or  a  lentil,  a  date  or  a  dragoman,  a 
melon  or  a  man,  a  dove  or  a  donkey,  has  only  to  inquire  at 
the  Joppa  Gate." 

There  should  be  such  variety  in  all  the  points  of  the 
poetic  form  as  not  to  suggest  constraint  on  the  part 
of  the  writer  or  the  spirit  within  the  writing.  There 
should  be  variety  in  the  kinds  and  the  number  of  feet, 
and  in  their  arrangement ;  in  the  kinds  and  succession 
of  rhymes;  and  in  the  number  and  kinds  of  verses  in 
the  stanzas.  There  must  seem  to  be  no  constraint  to 
set  form,  but  the  greatest  variety  within  the  limit 
of  rhythmical  movement.  The  theme  itself  demands 
such  variety.  The  varying  sentiment  sometimes  re- 
quires a  quick,  sprightly  movement,  and  sometimes 
the  slow,  heavy  tread  of  the  stately  march. 

Let  the  following  be  tested  and  explained  in  all  the 
points  of  poetic  form,  noting  carefully  the  means  of 
securing  variety  and  adaptation  to  the  varying  senti- 
ment :  — 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2\() 

1.  "  Half  a  league,  half  a  league, 

Half  a  league  onward 
All  in  the  Valley  of  Death 
Rode  the  six  hundred." 

2.  "  Build  me  straight,  O  worthy  Master, 

Staunch  and  strong,  a  goodly  vessel, 
That  shall  laugh  at  all  disaster, 

And  with  wave  and  whirlwind  wrestle." 

3.  "  There's  a  dance  of  leaves  in  that  aspen  bower, 

There  's  a  titter  of  winds  in  that  beechen  tree, 
There  's  a  smile  on  the  fruit,  and  a  smile  on  the  flower, 
And  a  laugh  from  the  brook  that  runs  to  the  sea." 

4.  "  So  live  that  when  thy  summons  comes  to  join 

The  innumerable  caravan,  which  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm,  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 
Thou  go  not,  like  the  quarry-slave  at  night, 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon,  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave, 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

5.  "  I  saw  him  once  before, 

As  he  passed  by  the  door, 

And  again 
The  pavement  stones  resound, 
As  he  totters  o'er  the  ground, 

With  his  cane." 

6.  "  A  little  lowly  heritage  it  was, 

Down  in  a  dale,  hard  by  a  forest's  side, 
Far  from  resort  of  people,  that  did  pass 
In  travel  to  and  fro ;  a  little  wide 
There  was  an  holy  chapel  edified, 


220  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Wherein  the  hermit  duly  went  to  say 
His  holy  things  each  morn  and  eventide ; 
Thereby  a  crystal  stream  did  gently  play, 
Which  from  a  sacred  fountain  welled  forth  alway." 

7.  "  And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June? 

Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days  : 
Then  Heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 

And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays. 
Whether  we  look,  or  whether  we  listen, 
We  hear  life  murmur,  or  see  it  glisten  ; 
Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might, 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 

Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers." 

8.  "  I  wooed  the  blue-eyed  maid 

Yielding,  yet  half  afraid, 
And  in  the  forest's  shade 

Our  vows  we  plighted. 
Under  its  loosened  vest 
Fluttered  her  little  breast, 
Like  birds  within  their  nest, 

By  the  hawk  frighted." 

9.  "  Fear  death  ?  —  to  feel  the  fog  in  my  throat, 

The  mist  in  my  face, 
When  the  snows  begin  and  the  blasts  denote 

I  am  nearing  the  place, 
The  power  of  the  night,  the  press  of  the  storm, 

The  post  of  the  foe, 
Where  he  stands,  the  Arch  Fear  in  a  visible  form  ? 

Yet  the  strong  man  must  go  ; 
For  the  journey  is  done  and  the  summit  attained, 

And  the  barriers  fall, 
Though  a  battle  's  to  fight  ere  the  guerdon  be  gained, 

The  reward  of  it  all." 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  22  1 

10.   "  Many  a  morning  on  the  moorland  did  we  hear  the  copses 
ring, 
And  her  whisper  throng'd  my  pulses  with  the  fullness  of 
the  spring." 

ii.  "Ye  who  believe  in  affection,  that  hopes  and  endures  and 

is  patient, 
Ye  who  believe  in  the  beauty  and  strength   of  woman's 

devotion, 
List  to  the  mournful  tradition  still  sung  by  the  pines  of 

the  forest ; 
List  to  a  Tale  of  Love  in  Acadie,  home  of  the  happy." 

THE    DIRECT    RELATION    OF    LANGUAGE    TO    THOUGHT. 

As  already  observed,  this  phase  of  language  has  two 
aspects  :  one  that  of  the  direct  back-and-forth  relation 
of  expression  to  idea,  and  the  other  the  relation  of  the 
language  to  the  organization  of  the  ideas  into  a  thought 
whole.  Thus  there  are  two  phases  in  the  process  of 
interpreting  language  under  the  present  heading:  one 
that  of  gathering  the  material  of  thought  from  the 
vehicle  of  thought,  and  the  other  that  of  organizing 
the  material  gathered  into  a  thought  whole.  Of  course 
all  the  interpreting  acts  move  simultaneously;  but  logi- 
cally they  are  conditioned  in  the  order  named.  Ob- 
serving the  language  form  conditions  the  gathering  of 
the  ideas  which  constitute  the  material  of  the  discourse; 
which  material  must  be  gathered  before  it  can  be 
organized.  Yet  these  acts  move  simultaneously 
through  the  discourse.  Thus  we  are  brought  next  to 
the  discussion  of  the  language  qualities  which  make 
language  effective  through  the  association  of  language 
form  with  ideas. 


222  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ASSOCIATION    OF    LANGUAGE    FORM    WITH    IDEAS. 

Language  form  is  associated  with  ideas  by  three 
acts:  that  of  the  memory,  of  the  imagination,  and  of 
the  judgment.  The  memory  associates  the  word 
with  the  idea;  the  imagination  realizes  the  idea  in 
imagery;  and  the  judgment  decides  from  the  context 
as  to  the  fitting  idea.  These  acts  require,  respec- 
tively, language  to  be  Familiar,  Concrete,  and  Precise. 

Familiarity.  -  -  Economy  of  memory  in  the  act  of 
interpretation  requires  the  use  of  words  that,  in  the 
process  of  interpretation,  have  passed  into  identity 
in  consciousness  with  the  idea  which  they  express. 
These  consist  of  such  words  as  have  become  familiar 
by  their  intimate  association  with  the  experience  of 
life.  Unfamiliar  words  may  be  inferred  from  the  con- 
text, but  this  requires  extra  labor  from  the  reader. 
The  mind  of  the  reader  should  pass  directly  and  un- 
consciously to  the  content  of  the  word.  One  strange 
word  in  a  sentence  renders  useless  all  the  others, 
puzzling  not  only  the  memory  in  trying  to  call  up  its 
meaning  but  also  the  imagination  and  judgment  in 
their  effort  to  organize  the  ideas. 

The  vocabulary  with  which  anyone  is  familiar  differs 
from  that  used  by  any  other,  and  is  small  when  com- 
pared with  the  whole  vocabulary  in  general  use.  The 
writer  or  speaker  cannot  adapt  his  words  to  the  special 
limitation  of  each  individual  addressed,  but  must  as- 
sume familiarity  with  the  words  in  current  use.  In 
addressing  a  special  audience,  special  adaptation  can 
be  made;  but  in  addressing  the  general  public,  he  is  at 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  223 

liberty  to  use  only  words  that  are  at  present  used  every- 
where by  intelligent  and  educated  writers. 

That  quality  of  a  word  which  gives  it  a  right  to  usage 
in  the  language  is  called  Purity.  Purity  in  an  English 
discourse  means  that  there  are  no  words  in  it  that  have 
not  the  sanction  of  contemporary  literary  usage.  A  vio- 
lation of  Purity  is  called  a  Barbarism;  and  the  word  in 
which  the  violation  occurs  might  be  called  a  Barbarian, 
because  it  is  outside  the  kingdom  of  English.  A  Bar- 
barism may  be  committed  by  using  a  word  from  either 
of  the  two  following  classes:  (i)  those  not  in  the  lan- 
guage at  present  —  Barbarism  in  Time;  (2)  those  not 
in  general  use  over  the  territory  in  which  the  language 
is  spoken  — -  Barbarism  in  Place. 

1.  Barbarisms  in  Time  are  of  two  classes:  (a)  those 
that  have  passed  partly  or  wholly  out  of  use  —  rare  and 
obsolete  words;  {b)  new  words  which  have  gained  only 
a  partial  currency  in  the  language. 

Language  has  life  and  growth.  A  word  is  born;  it 
flourishes;  it  dies.  Language  is  constantly  absorbing 
and  assimilating  new  elements  and  casting  off  the  worn 
out  and  useless.  Growth  of  ideas  is  constantly  render- 
ing old  words  useless  and  new  ones  necessary.  The 
greater  the  vital  activity,  the  larger  the  class  of  new 
words  that  have  gained  only  a  partial  hold  upon  the 
language,  and  of  old  words  that  are  dropping  out  because 
rarely  used.  These  transitional  words  constitute  the  two 
classes  in  which  Barbarisms  in  Time  may  be  committed. 
a.  Obsolete  words  are  those  which,  having  a  good 
standing  in  one  age,  are  no  longer  used,  because  the 
ideas  themselves  have  no  place  in  men's  thoughts,  or 


224  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

because  superseded  by  some  fitter  expression.  Through 
this  process,  the  author  of  one  age  becomes  unintelli- 
gible to  the  readers  of  the  next.  This  is  not  only 
because  the  words  themselves  have  ceased  to  be  used, 
but  because  the  grammatical  forms  have  become  obso- 
lete; as,  en,  the  plural  ending  used  by  Chaucer  and 
contemporary  writers.  Words  are  sometimes  obsolete 
in  only  some  of  their  meanings,  as  in  the  word  scant- 
ling (not  plentiful,  small).  Almost  any  page  of  the  older 
English  writers  or  of  the  dictionary  will  furnish  abun- 
dant illustrations  of  all  varieties  of  obsolete  and  obso- 
lescent words.  The  following  may  suffice:  eke,  wist, 
twain,  scarce-fire,  sickerness,  silentiary,  tumultuate, 
revoke  (to  recollect),  revile  (reproach),  erst,  yea,  verily, 
choures,  veyne,  beholden,  afeared,  obleeged,  withouten, 
otherwhere,  ycleped,  whilom. 

The  use  of  obsolete  words  is  allowable  in  poetry  and 
in  certain  kinds  of  fiction.  When  fiction  attempts  to 
present  an  earlier  age,  the  words  of  that  age,  though  not 
used  at  present,  are  a  means  of  giving  verisimilitude  to 
the  story. 

b.  The  growth  of  new  words  is  more  rapid  than  one 
would  suspect.  What  is  a  barbarism  in  one  age  is  pure 
English  in  the  next.  Every  year  a  multitude  of  cant 
phrases,  slang  and  colloquial  expressions,  and  ephemeral 
words  spring  up  to  meet  some  temporary  purpose,  and 
then  die,  unless  it  happen,  which  is  seldom,  that  one  of 
them  can  survive  on  the  ground  of  real  need.  Every 
one  has  observed  the  phenomenon  of  a  word  coming 
into  life,  struggling  for  existence,  and  giving  way  under 
some  fitter  form  of  expression,  or  making  good  its  own 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2Z$ 

claim  to  a  place  in  the  language.  Says  Genung:  "  The 
wretched  word  enthuse  seems  to  be  fighting  for  a  place 
in  standard  usage,  and  as  yet  no  one  can  tell  what  the 
sequel  will  be;  at  present  it  is  a  word  to  be  shunned. 
A  few  years  ago  the  word  telegram  was  new  and  much 
talked  of;  but  it  filled  a  needed  place  in  the  language 
and  soon  came  to  be  used  by  all.  The  invention  of  the 
telephone  brought  with  it  the  suggestion  of  a  corre- 
sponding word  '  telephem  ' ;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether 
this  will  ever  become  current." 

The  writer  is  not  prohibited  from  the  use  of  new 
words,  for  some  one  must  use  them,  even  coin  them. 
He  needs  only  to  be  cautioned  in  coining  and  using 
them.  Since  language  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man 
for  language,  an  author  has  a  right  to  coin  words  when 
some  new  juncture  of  thought  has  no  fitting  form  of 
expression  already.  But  the  ordinary  writer  will  seldom 
meet  with  such  a  juncture,  and  may  well  leave  to  com- 
manding genius  the  coining  of  such  circulating  media 
as  the  race  needs.  The  only  rule  is  to  beware  of  new 
words.  "  Be  not  the  first  by  whom  the  new  are  tried." 
The  law  of  purity  simply  forbids  the  use  of  vulgar  sub- 
stitutes for  good  expressions  already  in  current  use. 
The  following  given  by  A.  S.  Hill  are  good  examples 
of  the  class  to  be  avoided:  — 

"  He  availed  of,  instead  of  availed  himself  of  an  opportunity; 
how  does  he  like?  for  like  it;  how  do  you  like  ?  for  like  them;  a 
steal  for  a  theft;  Lord  Salisbury's  wander  through  Europe;  the 
case  was  referred;  he  deeded  me  the  land;  the  skatorial  phenome- 
non; Speaker  Randall's  retiraey;  clothes  Iaundried  at  short  notice; 

walkist,  agriculturist,  educationalist,  speculatist,  and  the  like;  B 

suicided  yesterday;  the  house  was  burglarized;  since  the  issuance 


226  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

(for  issue)  of  the  President's  order;  the  conferment  of  a  degree; 
his  letter  of  declinature;  cablegram,  reportorial,  managerial,  con- 
fliction  (for  conflict);  in  course  (for  of  course);  tasty  (for  taste- 
ful); he  was  fatigued  by  the  difficult  climb;   L was  extradited; 

dispeace;  informational;  to  juxtapose.  Firstly,  illy,  are  used  for 
first,  ill,  in  apparent  ignorance  of  the  fact  that,  being  adverbs 
already,  they  do  not  require  the  adverbial  termination  ly.  On 
yesterday,  come  around  (for  come  round,  in  the  sense  of  revive  or 
recover),  are  similar  errors." 

2.  Barbarisms  in  Place  are  of  two  classes:  (a)  those 
words  not  belonging  to  the  territory  in  which  the  lan- 
guage is  spoken — foreign  words;  (b)  those  belonging 
only  to  a  part  of  the  territory  in  which  the  language  is 
spoken  —  provincial  words. 

No  abuse  of  language  is  more  prominent  than  bar- 
barisms in  foreign  and  provincial  words.  The  illiterate 
class  are  more  given  to  the  latter;  but  the  former  is 
most  frequently  committed  by  persons  of  literary  at- 
tainments. In  a  few  pages  of  a  literary  work  these  are 
found :  a  madam  and  a  felo-do-se ;  the  principle  of  esse 
quani  videri;  the  rule  of  shunning  tanquam  scopulum 
and  insolent  verbum;  malaprop  picturesqneness;  tcmpora; 
mutantura;  their  beaux  esprits ;  the  metier  of  a  profes- 
sional talker;  during  the  bravnras  and  tours  de force  of 
the  great  musical  arts;  etc.  The  following  are  less 
offensive  because  more  frequently  used:  They  have 
reached  the  ne plus  ultra,  —  He  is  subject  to  ennui, — 
He  is  a  connoisseur  in  art, —  She  belongs  to  the  elite, 
—  The  entertainment  went  off  with  e'clat,  —  She  made 
her  de'but  last  evening. 

These  are  offensive  to  good  taste  and  are  violations 
of  the  law  of  economy  in  style.    All  foreign  expressions 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  227 

which  have  not  become  naturalized  in  our  language 
should  be  shunned.  While  foreign  words,  after  they 
have  become  a  part  of  our  language,  are  good  English, 
yet  such  must  not  be  sought  out  when  the  more  simple, 
homely,  native  word  stands  ready  to  do  service.  Often 
there  is  an  offensive  affectation  displayed  in  seeking 
out  words  of  foreign  origin,  especially  from  the  Latin, 
when  the  short,  simple,  Saxon  word  would  carry  the 
idea  more  directly  and  forcibly  to  the  head  and  the 
heart.  After  the  foreign  words  are  naturalized,  it  is 
not  a  question  of  native  or  foreign  origin,  but  of  effec- 
tiveness in  conveying  the  idea.  In  guarding  against 
the  false  taste  which  gives  a  preference  for  them,  we 
must  be  careful  not  to  form  a  prejudice  against  words 
of  classical  origin.  "  Seek  to  use  both  Saxon  and 
Classical  derivatives  for  what  they  are  worth,  and  be 
not  anxious  to  discard  either." 

Technical  terms  are  not  considered  a  part  of  the 
language,  and  should  not  be  used  except  in  addressing 
the  class  to  which  such  words  belong.  In  writings  in- 
tended for  some  particular  department  of  thought  or 
industry,  the  terms  peculiar  to  the  class  addressed  are 
the  most  effective  that  can  be  selected;  but  they  must 
be  discarded  when  such  subjects  are  treated  in  general 
literature,  although  with  great  loss  in  directness  and 
precision. 

Provincial  words  include  those  that  are  merely  col- 
loquial —  employed  in  common  conversation;  and  slang, 
the  low,  vulgar  colloquialisms  of  some  especial  class  in 
society.  Some  words  that  are  proper  in  conversation 
are  improper  in  formal,   continued   speech.      Unfortu- 


228  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

natcly  slang  needs  no  illustration.  There  are  times 
when  it  seems  the  most  compact,  spirited  way  of  saying 
a  thing,  and  it  may  serve  some  immediate  necessity, 
and  in  some  cases  find  a  permanent  place  in  the  lan- 
guage; but  as  a  rule  it  is  offensive,  and  indicates  a 
poverty  of  words  that  would  make  the  user  blush  if  he 
were  conscious  of  his  necessity. 

Within  the  limit  of  purity  there  is  ground  for  a 
further  choice.  Economy  of  memory  not  only  requires 
the  use  of  pure  words,  but  of  these  such  as  will  be  most 
familiar  to  those  addressed.  Some  words,  on  account 
of  early  association,  have  passed  into  identity  with  the 
idea;  and  in  such  cases  the  idea  follows  the  word  with- 
out effort.  Others  are  in  a  state  of  transition;  and 
still  others  exhaust  the  attention  because  the  association 
is  new.  Mark  the  difference  of  force  between  these: 
fire,  conflagration;  pay,  remunerate;  did,  performed; 
hang,  suspend;  little,  diminutive;  see,  witness;  burned, 
consumed;  answer,  rejoinder;  died,  deceased.  The 
more  economical  words  are  usually  Saxon,  but  they 
are  not  more  economical  because  they  are  Saxon;  it  is 
because  they  have  become  a  part  of  our  mental  life 
through  early,  constant,  and  long  association.  This  is 
why  Saxon  words  go  "  strongest  and  straightest  to 
men's  heads  and  hearts."  A  Latin  word  is  as  expres- 
sive as  a  Saxon  word  if  it  be  brief,  familiar,  and  well 
charged  with  meaning.  Saxon  words  are  the  original 
words  in  the  language,  and  denote  the  names  of  things 
known  to  our  ancestors,  and  to  all  classes  of  people. 
In  accounting  for  the  greater  economy  secured  by  the 
use  of  Saxon  words,  Herbert  Spencer  says:  "The  most 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  229 

important  of  them  is  early  association.  A  child's  vocab- 
ulary is  almost  wholly  Saxon.  He  says,  I  have,  not  I 
possess;  I  wish,  not  I  desire;  he  does  not  reflect,  he 
thinks;  he  does  not  beg  for  amusement,  but  for  play; 
he  calls  things  nice  or  nasty,  not  pleasant  or  disagree- 
able. The  synonyms  which  he  learns  in  after  years 
never  become  so  closely,  so  organically  connected  with 
the  ideas  signified  as  do  these  original  words  used  in 
childhood,  and  hence  the  association  remains  less 
strong.  But  in  what  does  a  strong  association  between 
a  word  and  an  idea  differ  from  a  weak  one  ?  Simply  in 
the  greater  ease  and  rapidity  of  the  suggestive  action. 
It  can  be  in  nothing  else.  Both  of  two  words,  if  they 
be  strictly  synonyms,  eventually  call  up  the  same  image. 
The  expression  —  It  is  acid,  must  in  the  end  give  rise 
to  the  same  thought  as  —  It  is  sour;  but  because  the 
term  acid  was  learnt  later  in  life,  and  has  not  been  so 
often  followed  by  the  thought  symbolized,  it  does  not 
so  readily  arouse  the  thought  as  the  term  sour.  If  we 
remember  how  slowly  and  with  what  labour  the  appro- 
priate ideas  follow  unfamiliar  words  in  another  lan- 
guage, and  how  increasing  familiarity  with  such  words 
brings  greater  rapidity  and  ease  of  comprehension,  and 
if  we  consider  that  the  same  process  must  have  gone  on 
with  the  words  of  our  mother  tongue  from  childhood 
upwards,  we  shall  clearly  see  that  the  earliest  learnt 
and  oftenest  used  words  will,  other  things  equal,  call 
up  images  with  less  loss  of  time  and  energy  than  their 
later  learnt  synonyms." 

The  most  familiar  words  are  usually  the  shortest  and 
simplest,  and  economize  not  only  memory  in  the  asso- 


23O  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ciative  act,  but  also  perception  in  the  presentative  act. 
Thus  the  word  pay  has  two  economical  values  over  the 
word  remunerate.  Short,  simple,  and  familiar  words 
are  indispensable  to  a  clear  style. 

While  all  the  foregoing  discussion  is  made  in  terms 
of  clearness,  that  is,  in  terms  of  economy  of  attention, 
it  is  quite  obvious  that  perfectly  transparent  language  is 
beautiful.  Language  which  obstructs  the  movement 
of  the  mind  toward  the  meaning  cannot  be  beautiful 
language,  for  it  awakens  the  sense  of  bondage. 

Also  the  most  familiar  word  is  the  most  energetic, 
through  the  fact  that  no  energy  is  wasted  in  the  inter- 
preting act.  But  the  positive  phase  of  energy  under 
this  head  consists  in  the  use  of  such  expressions  as 
will,  while  expressing  the  idea  required,  suggest  emo- 
tions to  arouse  the  mind  into  active  reception.  The 
mind  may  be  kept  aglow  with  emotions  awakened  by 
ideas  skillfully  selected  along  the  train  of  thought. 
Some  ideas  have  so  long  been  associated  with  life  and 
its  interests,  with  its  weal  and  its  woe,  with  its  trials 
and  triumphs, —  have  become  so  deeply  rooted  in  senti- 
ment and  conviction  that  they  carry  with  them  a  com- 
plex volume  of  rich  and  varied  emotion.  The  mere 
reference  to  these  in  passing  enriches  the  thought  and 
stimulates  the  mind  through  the  associations  of  memory 
to  a  fuller  reception  and  realization  of  the  matter  pre- 
sented. The  orator  instinctively  draws  such  ideas  into 
the  current  of  his  thought. 

Concrctcness.-  -The  mind  must  represent  to  itself  the 
idea  expressed.  Even  when  general  or  abstract  ideas 
are  expressed,  the  mind  represents  to  itself  the  individ- 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  23  I 

uals  of  the  class,  or  the  concrete  objects  in  which  the 
abstract  as  an  attribute  is  found.  When  an  abstract 
or  general  term  is  used,  the  mind  conceives  the  con- 
crete and  specific  to  which  the  general  and  abstract 
belong.  Words  are  translated  into  thoughts  through 
images;  and  this  requires  an  effort  beyond  that  of 
merely  recalling  the  meaning  of  words.  When  the 
concrete  and  specific  can  be  directly  named  instead  of 
the  abstract  and  general,  the  mind  is  relieved  from 
the  necessity  of  choosing  from  its  store  of  concrete  and 
specific  ideas  those  which  may  represent  the  general  or 
embody  the  abstract.  In  the  expression,  "  Consider 
the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow,"  a  general  truth 
concerning  all  plants  is  implied ;  and  with  what  economy 
as  compared  with,  "Consider  plants,  how  they  grow!  " 
In  the  last  statement  the  mind  is  necessarily  busy  with 
figuring  to  itself  this  or  that  type  of  plant,  and  finally 
choosing  one  or  holding  a  great  number  vaguely  in 
mind.  But  in  the  first,  the  mind  is  put  at  ease  with  a 
definite  species,  without  losing  anything  of  the  general 
truth  expressed.  For  the  writer's  purpose,  the  lily  has 
all  the  attributes  of  the  class.  If  an  individual  could 
have  been  mentioned  here,  the  gain  would  have  been 
still  greater. 

Abstract  objects  are  made  from  attributes,  and  have 
no  objective  existence  except  in  connection  with  objects 
as  their  subjects.  If  the  mind  searches  for  honesty,  it 
finds  not  honesty,  but  an  honest  man.  If,  therefore, 
instead  of  naming  the  abstract  truth,  thus  requiring 
the  mind  to  busy  itself  with  its  concrete  embodiment, 
the  concrete  be  named,  the  labor  of  transforming  the 


232  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

abstract  into  the  concrete  is  avoided;  just  as  in  the 
preceding  case  the  labor  is  avoided  of  transforming 
the  general  idea  into  the  individuals  of  which  it  is 
composed.  Spencer  says,  we  should  avoid  such 
sentences  as  this:  — 

"  In  proportion  as  the  manners,  customs,  and  amusements  of  a 
nation  are  cruel  and  barbarous,  the  regulations  of  their  penal  code 
will  be  severe." 

And  in  place  of  it  we  should  write:  — 

"  In  proportion  as  men  delight  in  battles,  bull-fights,  and  com- 
bats of  gladiators,  will  they  punish  by  hanging,  burning,  and 
the  rack." 

The  second  sentence  loses  nothing  of  the  abstract 
truth  expressed  in  the  first,  but  is  an  immense  saving 
of  the  recipient's  effort  to  realize  the  abstract  thought 
presented.  How  much  does  Emerson  gain  for  the 
reader  in  ease  of  interpretation  in  these  concrete  state- 
ments of  abstract  truths:  — 

"Wealth  has  its  source  in  the  rudest  strokes  of  spade  and 
axe."  —  "  Coal  makes  Canada  as  warm  as  Calcutta."  ■ —  "  Will  man 
content  himself  with  a  hut  and  a  handful  of  dried  peas?  "  —  "  No 
matter  whether  lie  makes  shoes  or  statues  or  laws."  —  "A  dollar 
in  a  university  is  worth  more  than  a  dollar  in  a  jail." — "His 
bones  ache  with  the  day's  labor  he  has  earned." 

Such  expression  gives  the  composer,  also,  an  oppor- 
tunity to  present  a  strong  and  impressive  idea  instead 
of  a  weak  one;  and  thus  concrete  expression  is  more 
forcible,  not  only  because  it  reserves  the  energy  of  the 
mind  for  the  idea  conveyed,  but  because  it  stimulates 
the   mind   to   activity   in   appropriating   the   idea.     In 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  233 

this  way,  too,  the  mind  may  be  kept  moving  through 
pleasing,  as  well  as  stimulating,  imagery;  as  when 
Tennyson  says :  — 

"  Were  this  not  well,  to  bide  mine  hour, 
Tho'  watching  from  a  ruined  tower 
How  grows  the  day  of  human  power." 

Certainly  the  picture  of  the  tower  stimulates  and 
delights  the  mind  in  the  process  of  interpretation. 
The  highest  effect  in  the  beauty  of  style  cannot  be 
secured  except  there  be  free  use  of  fresh  and  glowing 
imagery.  The  literary  writer  dare  not  speak  in  abstract 
terms.  The  incidental  imagery  in  discourse  may  be  so 
rich  and  varied  as  to  become  an  end  in  itself,  and  thus 
largely,  if  not  wholly,  justify  the  discourse  without  rela- 
tion to  the  theme  presented.  Just  as  the  music  of 
language  may  be  its  own  excuse  for  being,  without 
considering  the  sense  of  the  selection,  as  in  the  case  of 
Poe's  "  Bells,"  so  concrete  expression  may  rise  through 
charming  imagery  into  more  than  mere  economy  of 
interpretation,  and  become  an  esthetic  object  in  itself. 

But  for  whatever  purpose,  a  style  rich  in  imagery  is 
a  means  to  effective  utterance.  The  more  fully  the 
writer  can  put  his  abstract  thought  in  imagery,  the 
more  effective  will  be  his  presentation.  The  chief 
difference  between  speakers  in  addressing  popular 
audiences  lies  chiefly  in  their  power  to  throw  their 
thought  into  pleasing  and  expressive  imagery.  On 
one  side  this  is  a  necessity,  for  most  minds  think  in  the 
sensuous  forms  of  the  imagination.  But  the  point  here 
to  be  emphasized  is  the  stimulation  of  the  faculties  by 
means  of  pleasing  sensuous  forms. 


234  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

There  is  still  another  element  of  efficiency  in  con- 
crete language.  The  imagination  delights  in  its  own 
free  activity,  and  this  is  stimulated  by  suggestive 
imagery.  The  beautiful  part  of  the  painting  is  not 
the  part  directly  seen,  but  the  part  beyond  the  jutting 
headland  or  far  down  the  dim  vista.  The  picture  is 
most  pleasing  which  gives  only  hints,  leaving  the 
imagination  the  pleasure  of  its  own  free  activity.  The 
pattern  of  carpet  or  wall  paper  that  constrains  the  mind 
to  definite  figures  soon  wearies  the  observer;  it  permits 
no  freedom.  Whether  a  reader  return  again  and  again 
to  a  selection  with  increased  delight,  is  not  so  much 
determined  by  what  is  strictly  given  as  by  what  is 
indirectly  suggested.  The  permanence  of  a  piece  of 
literature  depends  largely  upon  its  power  of  suggestion 
to  the  imagination. 

Precision.  —  A  word  usually  expresses  several  ideas. 
The  one  intended  to  be  expressed  in  any  given  case 
must  be  ascertained  through  inference  by  the  judgment, 
based  on  the  relation  to  accompanying  ideas.  The 
word  compass  standing  alone  may  express  equally  well 
any  one  of  a  dozen  ideas;  but  standing  in  discourse,  it 
is  limited  to  one  of  this  number;  and  the  judgment 
must,  by  the  accompanying  words,  infer  which  idea 
the  author  intends  to  express.  When  the  writer  uses 
a  word  which  expresses  an  idea  that  does  not  harmonize 
with  the  context,  the  judgment  must  perform  unneces- 
sary labor  in  selecting  the  true  idea,  and  also  in  organ- 
izing the  thought  as  a  whole.  There  is  no  way  to  avoid 
the  constant  activity  of  the  judgment  in  realizing  the 
idea  expressed  by  a  word  in  discourse;  yet  care  must 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  235 

be  taken  to  avoid  unnecessary  labor,  by  selecting  the 
exact  word  for  the  idea  in  the  mind  of  the  writer.  The 
quality  of  the  word  which  economizes  the  judgment  is 
called  Precision. 

Precision  —  literally  to  cut  off — is  that  quality  of  a 
word  by  which  it  expresses  "  no  more,  no  less,  and  no 
other"  than  the  idea  which  the  writer  intended  to  con- 
vey. It  is  a  synonym  for  exactness  —  the  exact  fit  of 
the  word  to  the  idea.  If  the  word  does  not  express 
accurately  the  idea  intended,  the  recipient  must  labor 
to  gain  that  idea.  If  it  should  be  said,  "  Virtue  alone 
makes  us  happy,"  meaning  that  nothing  else  can  do 
it,  we  should  miss  the  meaning  of  the  writer  or  waste 
effort  to  find  it.  Or,  if  it  should  be  said,  "  Virtue  only 
makes  us  happy,"  meaning  that  virtue  by  itself  is  suf- 
ficient to  do  so,  the  idea  would  be  falsely  conveyed.  If 
the  host  should  say  to  his  guest,  "  Do  not  be  in  a  hurry 
to  depart,"  the  guest  should  think  that  he  was  requested 
not  to  be  excited  to  leave  so  quickly,  when  perhaps  it 
was  only  intended  to  request  him  not  to  leave  so  soon 
—  not  to  hasten.  In  this  case  too  much  is  expressed, 
and  the  judgment,  taking  into  account  the  circum- 
stances, makes  the  correction,  but  this  costs  effort. 
The  term  hasten  would  express  too  little,  if  it  was 
intended  to  express  not  only  rapid  movement,  but,  with 
it,  a  disturbed  state  of  mind  causing  abrupt  and  irregu- 
lar movement.  Sometimes  the  writer,  by  confounding 
two  words  which  resemble  in  form,  commits  the  awk- 
ward blunder  of  missing  the  idea  entirely;  as,  when 
the  writer  closes  his  letter  with,  "Yours  respectively." 
The  connection  in  which  the  word  is  used  will  generally 


236  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

prevent  a  misconception;  but  to  require  a  reader  to 
make  out  the  correct  meaning  for  himself  is  to  impose 
on  him  labor  that  belongs  to  the  writer. 

Precision  is  secured  by  using  words  in  their  proper 
sense,  or  with  propriety.  Whatever  the  derivation  or 
history  of  words,  they  must  be  used  with  their  current 
meaning  —  with  the  exact  meaning  stamped  upon  them 
by  the  masters  of  expression.  While  in  general  a 
knowledge  of  the  derivation  and  history  of  a  word  is 
essential  to  its  intelligent  and  accurate  use,  yet  because 
of  the  capricious  changes  in  the  language,  the  present 
application  of  a  large  number  of  words  seems  to  have 
no  connection  with  their  radical  meaning.  Often  two 
words  from  the  same  root  and  having  nearly  the  same 
sound  have  widely  different  meanings;  as,  respectively 
and  respectfully.  At  one  time  it  would  have  been  a 
compliment  to  have  spoken  of  a  "  painful  sermon." 
A  clerk  is  no  longer  a  clergyman.  We  build  a  house 
rather  than  edify  it. 

This  divergence  in  meaning  of  words  from  the  same 
radical  often  leads  to  the  expression  of  a  different  idea 
from  the  one  intended.  If  one  should  speak  of  the 
observation  of  the  Fourth  of  July  —  confounding  the 
word  with  observance  —  the  hearer  would  be  puzzled 
as  to  the  method  of  the  performance.  Yet  the  words 
are  radically  so  near  alike  that  we  can  say,  The  man 
observes  the  landscape,  or,  the  Fourth  of  July.  The 
words  falseness  and  falsehood  are  both  derived  from 
the  word  false,  yet  falseness  can  be  applied  only  to  per- 
sons, while  falsehood  is  affirmed  of  statements.  Words 
having  the  same  radical   signification  are  called  Paro- 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  237 

nyms.  These  include  also  words  that  have  the  same 
sound  but  different  meaning.  Sometimes  ludicrous 
blunders  are  made  by  not  distinguishing  between  words 
that  have  the  same  or  nearly  the  same  sound;  as,  when 
it  was  said  that  "  She  was  as  headstrong  as  an  allegory 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile." 

Precision  is  secured  chiefly  by  the  discriminating 
use  of  synonyms.  Synonyms  are  words  which,  while 
expressing  shades  of  difference,  have  substantially  the 
same  meaning.  They  are  not  referable  to  the  same 
root,  as  are  paronyms,  but  are  distinct  classes  of  words 
derived  from  different  sources.  The  English  language, 
composed  of  elements  from  so  many  different  languages, 
is  rich  in  synonyms.  While  synonyms,  by  the  various 
shades  of  meaning  they  express  with  substantially  the 
same  idea,  are  a  means  to  exact  expression,  yet  because 
their  likeness  is  more  prominent  than  their  difference, 
they  are  a  source  of  inaccuracy.  If  synonyms  are  to  be 
a  means  of  accuracy  to  the  composer,  he  must  discrim- 
inate between  their  meanings,  and  apply  them  with  a 
consciousness  of  their  difference.  Hence,  the  distinc- 
tion between  synonymous  expressions  becomes  an  im- 
portant study  for  him  who  would  write  with  precision. 
There  must  be  a  constant  use  of  the  dictionary  and  a 
book  of  synonyms  in  testing  the  exactness  of  the  word 
selected.  The  writer  should  not  fall  into  the  slovenly 
habit  of  thinking  that  the  word  is  not  quite  right,  but 
nearly  enough  so.  If  he  would  cultivate  accuracy  he 
must  constantly  seek  to  say  precisely  what  his  thought 
requires.  The  interest  of  truth  demands  this,  for  there 
is  no  way  in  which  a  statement  is  made  to  diverge  from 


238  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  truth  more  frequently  than  by  the  careless  use  of 
synonymous  expressions.  The  turn  of  thought  which 
depends  on  the  choice  of  a  particular  word  may  be  the 
most  significant  distinction  expressed. 

It  is  not  only  important  to  discriminate  among  syno- 
nyms in  order  to  choose  the  fit  word,  but  that,  in  the 
elaboration  of  an  idea,  it  may  be  presented  under  its 
different  phases;  and  yet,  in  the  repetition  of  the  idea, 
the  same  word  need  not  be  chosen.     The  reiteration  of 
the  same  idea  in  the  same  term  is  clumsy  and  monoto- 
nous; and  there  is  a  constant  effort  to  find  words  that, 
in  the  repetition  of  the  idea,  will  preserve  substantially 
the  same  meaning.     There  is  no  need  more  constantly 
felt  by  the  writer  than  that  of  many  expressions  for 
the  same  thing.    "  Not  that  several  forms  of  expression 
are  in  every  case  to  be  employed;  this,  of  course,  is  a 
matter  that  must  be  determined  by  the  occasion.      But 
it   often   happens  that   if  the   writer  has   not  thought 
broadly   and   deeply   enough   to   have    more   than   one 
expression  for  his  idea,  the   one  that   he  has  will  be 
meager.    The  one  apt  word  is  very  generally  the  result 
of  long  cogitation  and  debate  between  alternative  locu- 
tions.      Recognizing   this  fact,    eminent  writers   have 
often    cultivated    as  a   private   discipline   the  habit  of 
putting  things  in  many  different  ways,  ringing  changes 
in  expression,  softening  and  strengthening,  formalizing 
and  colloquializing,  condensing  and  expanding,  making 
severely   accurate  and  making  freely  loose.       Such  a 
habit    is    untold   value   as   means   of    familiarizing  the 
literary  workman  with   his  tools." 

Thus  while  synonyms  are  employed  in  their  different 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  239 

shades  of  meaning  to  denote  delicacy  and  precision,  used 
for  their  likeness  they  secure  freedom  and  flexibility. 

It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the  choice  of  a  pre- 
cise word  is  conditioned  by  a  clearly  defined  idea;  and 
that  to  the  careful  study  of  synonyms  as  a  means  of 
securing  accuracy  in  expression  must  be  added  discipline 
in  forming  clear,  distinct,  and  vivid  conceptions.  Vague 
and  definite  ideas  cannot  clothe  themselves  in  close- 
fitting  words.  Whatever  trains  the  mind  to  bound 
ideas  accurately  and  to  conceive  them  clearly  makes 
possible  the  choice  of  an  exact  word.  And,  further- 
more, the  mind,  impressed  with  a  sense  of  accuracy  in 
the  idea  itself,  will  be  sensitive  to  the  form  in  which 
it  is  put — will  instinctively  light  upon  the  right  word. 

As  introductory  to  the  habit  of  observing  synonyms, 
let  the  likenesses  and  unlikenesses  be  stated  in  the 
following  groups,  and  each  applied  in  its  distinction:  — 

Invent,  discover;  abhor,  detest;  haste,  hurry;  alone,  only;  clear, 
distinct;  calm,  peace,  tranquillity;  custom,  habit;  equivocal,  am- 
biguous; avow,  acknowledge,  confess;  industrious,  laborious,  dili- 
gent; in,  into;  two,  couple;  proudrvain;  faculty,  capacity;  bonds, 
fetters;  abdicate,  desert;  character,  reputation;  occasion,  oppor- 
tunity; sick,  ill;  pity,  sympathy;  stay,  remain;  jealousy,  envy; 
tolerate,  permit;  lack,  want,  need;  candid,  open,  sincere;  cautious, 
wary,  circumspect;  combination,  cabal,  plot,  conspiracy;  shall, 
will. 

Distinguish,  also,  between  the  following  paronyms :  - 

Expect,  suspect;  healthy,  healthful;  sensuous,  sensual;  construe, 
construct;  predict,  predicate;  contemptible,  contemptuous;  neglect, 
negligence;  ingenious,  ingenuous;  subtle,  subtile;  artist,  artisan; 
womanly,  womanish;  emigrant,  immigrant;  human,  humane; 
benevolence,   beneficence, 


24O  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

The  purpose  has  been  not  to  catalogue  the  precepts 
of  diction,  but  to  illustrate  the  basis  of  all  precepts  in 
the  fundamental  principle  of  the  interpreting  process. 
Arbitrary  rules  confuse,  discourage,  and  enslave;  while 
principles  give  freedom,  guide,  inspire  confidence,  and 
command  respect.  With  these  principles  fixed,  the 
student's  knowledge  will  crystallize  about  them  through 
the  necessity  of  his  experience  with  language,  both  in 
construction  and  interpretation.  Whatever  the  treat- 
ment, it  could  not  take  the  place  of  such  experience. 
With  the  principle  of  diction  in  words  to  guide,  the 
student  who  aspires  to  clearness  of  expression  must 
hope  to  secure  it  by  constantly  realizing  the  principles 
in  himself  as  he  reads,  writes,  or  speaks.  Especially 
must  he  observe  the  usage  of  the  best  writers.  The 
dictionary  and  book  of  synonyms,  while  helpful  in 
their  way,  cannot  take  the  place  of  the  diligent  study 
of  words  as  they  are  organized  in  the  life  of  discourse. 
The  dictionary  cannot  impart  to  words  the  life  and 
delicacy  that  come  from  the  touch  of  an  author. 
"  Words  are  the  vehicle  not  only  of  thought  but  of 
sentiment  and  emotion  ;  but  this  they  can  be  only  as 
interwoven  with  other  words.  Thus  alone  can  they  get 
beyond  the  merely  intellectual  side  of  language,  and 
from  its  defined  meanings  provided  for  its  often  far 
more  vital  undefined  associations.  No  fineness  of  usage 
can  be  acquired  from  the  dictionary  alone ;  the  grace 
and  power,  the  subtilities  and  flexibilities  of  words,  are 
seen  fully  only  as  they  are  fitted  together,  in  actual 
literature,  by  the  masters  of  expression."  Without 
such  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  best  literary  usage, 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  24I 

without  a  large,  pure,  literary  vocabulary  to  choose 
from,  the  principles  of  choice  will  be  of  little  avail ; 
and  without  principles  of  choice  the  composer  could 
not  consciously  wield  the  words  at  his  command. 


ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    IDEAS    INTO   THOUGHT. 

The  primary  language  quality  required  to  facilitate 
this  process  is  that  of  unity ;  and  the  prominent 
activity  is  that  of  the  judgment,  which  acts,  however, 
upon  the  constant  activity  of  the  memory  and  the 
imagination.  The  memory  must  hold  the  materials 
gathered  till  the  judgment  can  organize  them ;  and 
the  imagination  must  represent  in  images  the  thought 
whole  presented. 

The  first  requirement  under  the  general  law  of  lan- 
guage unity  is  that  there  be  no  unnecessary  material 
presented  for  organization.  Such  material  requires 
useless  effort  in  the  organizing  process ;  and  many 
times  it  becomes  so  burdensome  as  to  defeat,  in  a 
large  measure,  the  purpose  of  the  discourse.  Hence, 
the  law  of  unity  requires  of  language  first,  — 

Conciseness.  —  Only  the  words  essential  to  the  full 
and  accurate  expression  of  the  thought  should  be  used. 
The  proper  number  can  be  only  relatively  determined. 
Immature  minds  require  fuller  expression  than  mature; 
an  oral  statement  may  need  fuller  expression  than  a 
written  one;  a  familiar  thought  needs  only  to  be  sug- 
gested, while  the  features  of  an  unfamiliar  one  must 
be  brought  out  by  a  great  number  of  words.  Thus 
the  proper  number  of  words  is  determined  by  a  great 


242  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

many  considerations.  It  is  perhaps  a  greater  error  to 
use  too  few  words  than  too  many;  yet  the  use  of  too 
many  is  the  more  common  error,  and  so  serious  as  to 
demand  careful  attention. 

It  has  already  been  noted  that  an  unnecessary  word 
prevents  clearness  by  the  useless  burden  put  upon 
sense-perception.  Still  greater  is  the  burden  imposed 
on  memory;  for  there  is  not  only  the  unnecessary  act 
of  associating  the  word  with  its  idea,  but  the  memory 
is  required  to  carry  the  useless  idea,  only  to  puzzle  the 
imagination  and  judgment  in  their  effort  to  organize  it 
in  with  the  other  ideas.  Thus,  too  many  words  inter- 
fere with  all  the  interpreting  acts,  but  chiefly  with 
memory. 

The  general  fault  of  wordiness  is  called  Verbosity. 
Verbosity  arises  generally  from  either  a  diffused  or 
confused  mode  of  thinking,  or  the  desire  to  seem  to 
be  saying  more  than  the  concise  expression  would  con- 
vey. It  has  its  origin,  therefore,  in  the  condition  of 
clearness,  stated  at  the  outset;  namely,  in  moral  habit 
and  in  discipline  of  mind.  The  lack  of  precision  in 
the  expression  is  the  natural  result  of  a  lack  in  the 
precision  of  thought,  or  of  regard  for  the  truth  ex- 
pressed. Verbosity  is  an  overgrowth  of  words  from 
an  untamed  thought,  nourished  by  the  care  of  expres- 
sion for  the  sake  of  expression  as  distinct  from  thought. 
Says  Phelps:  "  Diffuseness,  repetition,  bombast,  result 
inevitably  from  the  study  of  expression  as  distinct  from 
thought."  When  there  is  no  self-consciousness  in- 
volved, the  excessive  care  for  expression  as  something 
in    itself    is   a   leading    source    of    looseness    in    style; 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  243 

Those  who  expect  to  cultivate  conciseness  in  style 
need  hope  for  little  from  the  mere  study  of  language. 

Verbosity  is  often  so  diffused  throughout  the  expres- 
sion that  it  cannot  be  located  in  any  definite  form  of 
language.  So  far  as  the  different  ways  have  been 
classified  and  named  there  are  three:  Tautology, 
Redundancy,  and  Circumlocution. 

Tautology  is  saying  in  other  words  exactly  what  has 
just  been  said;  as,  — 

"  A  writer  should  not  waste  his  words  for  nothing."  —  "  He  re- 
vises all  the  while."  —  "  It  lacked  the  power  of  engaging  attention 
and  of  alluring  curiosity."  —  "Pupils  should  obey  the  rules  and 
regulations." 

Tautology  is  the  form  of  wordiness  most  easily 
detected  and,  therefore,  the  least  excusable. 

Redundancy  is  the  addition  of  ideas  not  necessary 
to  the  sense.  Redundancy  does  not  repeat  the  idea, 
but  adds  that  which  the  idea  already  expressed  renders 
unnecessary;  thus, — 

"  The  laws  of  nature  are  uniform  and  invariable."  —  "I  wrote 
to  you  a  letter  yesterday."  —  "  I  went  home  full  of  a  great  many 
serious  reflections."  —  "There  is  no  writer  so  concise  in  style  as 
not  sometimes  to  use  a  redundant  expression."  —  "  There  is  noth- 
ing that  disgusts  us  sooner  than  the  empty  pomp  of  language."  — 
"  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  newspapers  at  present  are  read 
altogether  too  much."  —  "  Being  content  with  deserving  a  triumph, 
he  refused  to  receive  the  triumph  that  was  offered  him." 

Circumlocution  is  a  much  more  subtile  form  of  ver- 
bosity than  tautology  or  redundancy,  and  hence  is  a 
fault  more  easily  committed  and  less  easily  detected. 
It   is  an   unnecessary  multiplication  of  words  by  some 


244  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

roundabout  mode  of  statement.  When  there  is  a  pur- 
pose in  such  indirect  statement,  it  becomes  an  allowable 
figure  of  speech,  called  Periphrasis;  but  when  resulting 
from  carelessness  or  affectation,  it  becomes  a  serious 
and  inexcusable  fault.  Circumlocution  is  characteristic 
of  "fine  writing,"  the  dressing  out  in  high-sounding 
terms  commonplace  ideas;  as, — 

"  The  shining  leather  which  encased  the  limb,"  —  a  boot.  The 
explosion  of  "  the  leveled  tube,"  —  a  gun. 

Lowell,  in  his  introduction  to  the  Biglow  papers, 
gives  some  good  examples :  — 

"  Called  into  requisition  the  services  of  the  family  physician," 
—  "  Sent  for  the  doctor." 

"  I  shall,  with  your  permission,  beg  leave  to  offer  some  brief 
observations,"  —  "I  shall  say  a  few  words." 

"  The  progress  of  the  devouring  element  was  arrested,"  — 
"  The  fire  was  got  under." 

"  The  conflagration  spread  its  devastating  career,"  —  "  The 
fire  spread." 

Circumlocution  is  usually  more  difficult  to  detect 
than  appears  in  these  examples.  It  is  hidden  from  the 
first  view  in  this  often-quoted  sentence:  — 

"Among  the  eminent  men  who  figured  in  the  eventful  history 
of  the  French  Revolution  was  M.  Talleyrand  ;  and  whether  in 
that  scene,  or  in  any  portion  of  modern  annals,  we  shall  in  vain 
look  for  one  who  represents  a  more  interesting  subject  of 
history." 

D.  J.  Hill,  in  commenting  on  this,  says:  "In  addi- 
tion to  beating  out  the  sense  to  the  thinnest  possible 
film,  his  lordship  makes  Talleyrand  figure  in  the  his- 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  245 

tory  instead  of  the  scene,  then  confounds  scene  and 
annals,  and  finally  tells  us  that  Talleyrand  represents 
an  interesting  subject  of  history.  The  idea  may  be 
more  clearly  expressed  in  twenty-four  instead  of  forty- 
four  words:  Among  the  eminent  characters  of  the 
French  Revolution  was  M.  Talleyrand,  and,  in  modern 
times,  we  shall  find  no  more  interesting  subject  of 
history." 

The  remedy  for  tautology  and  redundancy  is  to  cut 
off  the  superfluous  part,  —  in  the  first,  the  useless 
expression;  in  the  second,  the  useless  idea.  Circum- 
locution is  remedied,  not  by  leaving  out  parts,  but  by 
reforming  the  sentence  in  terser  language.  In  the  fol- 
lowing exercises,  used  by  Swinton  and  Kellogg,  let  the 
verbosities  be  classified  and  removed:  — 

1 .  Every  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth  has  duties  to  per- 
form. 

2.  Another  old  veteran  has  departed. 

3.  Thought  and  language  act  and  react  mutually  on  each 
other. 

4.  Emma  writes  very  well  for  a  new  beginner. 

5.  The  time  for  learning  is  in  the  period  of  youth. 

6.  Whenever  he  calls,  he  always  inquires  for  you. 

7.  The  ocean  is  the  great  reservoir  for  receiving  the  waters  of 
the  rivers. 

8.  The  world  is  fitly  compared  to  a  stage,  and  its  inhabitants 
to  the  actors  who  perform  their  parts. 

9.  "  Pope  professed  to  have  learned  his  poetry  from  Dryden, 
whom,  whenever  an  opportunity  presented  itself,  he  praised 
through  the  whole  period  of  his  existence  with  a  liberality  which 
never  varied;  and  perhaps  his  character  may  receive  some  illus- 
tration, if  a  comparison  be  instituted  between  him  and  the  man 
whose  pupil  he  was." 


246  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

10.  Redundancy  sometimes  arises  from  a  want  of  thought, 
which  leads  the  author  to  repeat  over  and  over  again  his  little 
modicum  of  sense  at  his  command. 

1 1.  He  received  divine  help  from  God. 

12.  The  annual  anniversary  of  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims, 
celebrated  yearly,  took  place  a  few  days  since. 

Prune  to  concise  language  the  following  quotation  :  — 

"Importance  of  Habits  of  Attention.  —  The  importance  of 
habits  of  attention  cannot  be  overrated.  The  power  of  controlling 
one's  own  mental  faculties,  of  directing  them  at  will  into  whatever 
channel  the  occasion  may  demand,  of  excluding  from  the  mind  all 
irrelevant  ideas,  and  concentrating  the  mind  on  the  one  object  of 
thought,  is  a  power  of  the  highest  value.  It  is  in  this  that  we 
find  the  principal  difference  between  one  mind  and  another  in  the 
realm  of  thought  and  knowledge.  Mental  power  is,  to  a  great 
extent,  the  power  of  attention. 

"  One  of  the  principal  elements  of  genius  is  strength  of  will  to 
control  the  mind  and  command  the  mental  energies. 

"  To  all  the  Faculties.  —  Attention  is  of  great  value  to  all  the 
faculties.  It  is  involved  in  and  inseparably  connected  with  the 
exercise  of  these  faculties,  giving  them  their  direction  and  in- 
creasing their  power.  It  conditions  their  activity,  and  is  a  meas- 
ure of  their  strength  and  attainments.  Its  value  in  relation  to 
each  one  of  the  different  faculties  will  be  briefly  noticed. 

"  To  Perception.  —  The  power  of  perception  is  mainly  due  to 
the  power  of  attention.  In  an  act  of  perception  we  need  not  only 
the  open  senses,  but  also  the  attentive  mind.  Mere  gazing  is  not 
sufficient  ;  we  need  the  concentration  of  mind  in  order  to  per- 
ceive. Too  many  persons  have  eyes  and  see  not,  ears  and  hear 
not,  fingers  that  touch  and  yet  communicate  no  knowledge.  A 
large  share  of  the  perception  of  the  world  is  inattentive  and 
careless. 

"  Attention,  in  relation  to  perception,  is  like  a  microscope  to  the 
eye.  I  look  at  a  flower  and  perceive  many  things  concerning  it; 
I  place  a  microscope  to  my  eye,  and  thus  see  points  of  interest  I 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  247 

never  dreamed  of  before.  So  attention  seems  to  concentrate  the 
rays  of  perceptive  power,  revealing  thereby  that  which  was  previ- 
ously unperceived.  In  its  relation  to  perception,  attention  may  be 
called  a  mental  microscope. 

"To  Memory.  —  Attention  gives  power  to  the  memory.  It 
gives  clearness  of  conception,  which  is  a  condition  of  remember- 
ing. That  which  the  mind  has  clearly  apprehended,  which  it  has 
carefully  discriminated  from  other  things,  takes  firm  hold  of,  and 
thus  retains  it  in  its  mental  grasp.  Continuous  attention  also 
enables  us  to  fix  the  idea,  to  give  permanence  to  the  impression. 
It  acts  like  a  kind  of  die  which  stamps  the  picture  upon  the  tablet 
of  memory.  Without  it,  the  greater  part  of  what  we  hear  or  see 
would  fade  from  the  mind,  as  a  shadow  flits  across  the  summer 
landscape." 

Besides  the  sins  of  commission  against  brevity,  in 
the  form  of  Tautology,  Redundancy,  and  Circumlocu- 
tion, there  are  the  sins  of  omission,  in  which  the  com- 
poser fails  to  use  all  legitimate  means  of  condensation. 
These  means  are  various,  some  of  which  are  as  fol- 
lows: — 

Often  what  is  expressed  by  a  compound  sentence 
may  be  more  compactly  put  in  a  complex  or  a  simple 
one  ;  thus  :  White  garments  are  cool  in  summer,  be- 
cause they  reflect  the  rays  of  the  sun,  —  White  gar- 
ments, which  reflect  the  rays  of  the  sun,  are  cool  in 
summer,  -  -  White  garments,  reflecting  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  are  cool  in  summer. 

The  omission  of  an  essential  part  of  the  sentence, 
when  it  can  be  readily  supplied,  is  an  effective  means 
for  securing  brevity;  as,  the  omission  of  a  subject, 
verb,  object  of  a  verb,  conjunction,  or  other  parts  more 
readily  supplied  than  interpreted.  Thus:  Mirth  should 
be  the  embroidery  of  conversation,  but  it  should  not  be 


248  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  web  of  it,  —  Mirth  should  be  the  embroidery  of 
conversation,  but  it  should  not  be  the  web, — Mirth 
should  be  the  embroidery  of  conversation,  but  not  the 
web,  —  Mirth  should  be  the  embroidery  of  conversa- 
tion; not  the  web.  The  copula,  preceding  a  series  of 
details,  is  omitted  with  good  effect;  as,  A  beautiful 
flower  is  the  lily — sweet,  graceful,  and  delicate. 

A  word  may  often  be  substituted  for  a  phrase;  thus: 
His  writing  is  such  that  it  cannot  be  read,  —  illegible. 
Participles  are  frequently  used  for  brief  equivalents  of 
phrases  and  clauses. 

In  many  such  ways  the  writer  may  condense  his  ex- 
pression to  the  least  compass  of  the  thought.  Yet 
clearness  must  be  the  first  consideration.  The  com- 
poser should  not  risk  obscurity  for  brevity.  The  exact 
nature  of  the  thought  and  the  knowledge  and  capacity 
of  the  mind  addressed  must  determine  each  case ;  and 
if  there  be  error,  let  it  favor  clearness. 

What  has  been  said  touching  the  qualities  of  the 
sentence  which  burdens  the  memory  and  tries  the  judg- 
ment with  useless  material  applies  to  the  discourse 
as  a  whole.  As  the  sentence  must  contain  the  fewest 
words  consistent  with  clearness,  so  the  discourse  as  a 
whole  should  contain  the  fewest  sentences  consistent 
with  the  purpose  of  the  discourse. 

The  positive  offense  at  this  point  is  Prolixity. 

Prolixity  is  the  enumeration  of  unimportant  things, 
or  things  which  the  reader,  from  his  general  knowl- 
edge, would  readily  supply  from  the  context.  Prolixity 
gives  to  incidental  and  subordinate  parts  the  promi- 
nence of  essential  ones.      It  is  avoided  by  holding  the 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  249 

attention  to  the  leading  idea ;  by  presenting  suggestive 
characteristics  and  leaving  the  imagination  to  supply- 
such  minutia  as  it  may  need.  "  A  prolix  writer  de- 
lights in  circumlocution,  extended  detail,  and  trifling 
particulars."  A  concise  writer  suggests  much  in  saying 
little.  No  fault  is  more  directly  opposed  to  the  law  of 
economy  than  is  prolixity.  The  mind  often  antici- 
pates in  a  moment  all  that  a  writer  narrates  in  pages ; 
and  then  an  effort  of  the  will  is  required  to  hold  the 
mind  in  readiness  for  the  needed  thought,  which  may 
happen  along  by  and  by.  Examples  of  this  fault  are 
too  lengthy  for  quotation.  They  are  abundantly  illus- 
trated by  the  conversational  bores,  who  vex,  tire,  and 
perplex  by  endless  talk  of  irrelevant  minutia,  and 
personal  details  which  they  assume  are  as  interesting 
to  others  as  to  themselves.  Literary  bores  are  less 
numerous  and  more  polite,  for  they  do  not  hold  one 
fast  to  listen  whether  he  will.  Yet  the  pleasure  of 
reading  such  an  author,  even  such  as  Dickens,  would 
be  greatly  increased  if  he  were  less  prolix. 

Not  only  must  the  mind  not  be  burdened  with  use- 
less material,  but  too  much  material  must  not  be  given 
it  for  a  single  organizing  act.  This  makes  it  necessary 
to  consider 

The  Proper  Length  of  the  Sentence.  —  As  shown  in 
the  preceding,  the  memory  may  be  required  to  carry 
both  unnecessary  words  and  unnecessary  ideas.  Of 
essential  ideas,  it  may  be  required  to  cany  more,  or  to 
carry  them  longer  than  is  possible  without  conscious 
effort.  This  puts  a  limit  to  the  length  of  the  sen- 
tence.     A  sentence  may  be  long  without    being  ver- 


25O  THK    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

bose.  Instead  of  breaking  the  truth  up  into  several 
distinct  statements,  each  expanding  and  correcting 
what  is  said  in  the  first,  the  whole  may  be  given  in  one 
long,  involved,  complex  sentence.  The  one  long  sen- 
tence may  be  shorter  than  all  the  short  ones  out  of 
which  it  is  made.  There  is  a  gain  to  the  memory  up 
to  the  point  of  conscious  effort  in  carrying  the  parts. 
The  greater  the  amount  carried  at  once,  the  better,  so 
long  as  the  effort  to  lift  the  burden  is  less  than  that 
required  in  repeating  the  carrying  act.  While  the 
short  sentence  is  always  less  burdensome  in  itself  than 
the  long  one,  the  long  sentence  is  always  more  eco- 
nomical than  the  several  short  ones  out  of  which  it 
is  made,  provided  the  effort  to  carry  the  parts  is  less 
than  the  effort  through  the  repetition  required  in  short 
sentences.  Were  it  always  known  how  many  ideas 
could  be  carried  without  conscious  effort,  the  length  of 
the  sentence  might  be  absolutely  determined.  No  rule 
can  be  given  for  drawing  this  line.  While  it  may  be 
said  absolutely  that  no  tautological  word  should  be 
used,  the  principle  controlling  the  length  of  the  sen- 
tence must  be  applied  to  test  anew  each  case.  Some 
long  sentences,  owing  to  their  arrangement,  are  less 
taxing  to  the  attention  than  others.  The  culture  of 
the  mind  addressed  is  a  determining  factor  as  to  the 
length  of  the  sentence.  The  trained  mind  can  hold 
a  great  many  qualifying  circumstances  without  the 
necessity  of  depositing  them  in  the  principal  idea.  For 
the  immature,  the  truth  must  be  presented  in  short, 
simple  sentences,  item  by  item.  The  long  sentence 
presents  the  thought    as  a  whole  better  than  several 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  25  I 

short  ones,  and,  therefore,  requires  less  effort  on  the 
part  of  the  imagination  and  judgment  to  organize  the 
material  given.  It  thus  appears  that  as  much  as  pos- 
sible should  be  expressed  in  the  single  sentence,  the 
limit  being  the  point  at  which  the  burden  to  the 
memory  exceeds  the  gain  to  it  and  to  the  other 
faculties. 

The  requirements  of  the  subject  itself  has  much  to 
do  with  the  length  of  the  sentence.  Phelps  says  :  "You 
cannot  express  the  rising  and  the  expanding  and  the 
sweep  and  the  circling  of  eloquent  thought,  borne  up 
on  eloquent  feeling,  in  a  style  resembling  that  which 
seamen  call  'a  chopping  sea.'  For  such  thinking,  you 
must  have  at  command  a  style  of  which  an  oceanic 
ground-swell  or  the  Gothic  interweaving  of  forest 
trees  is  the  more  becoming  symbol.  You  must  have 
long  sentences,  involved  sentences,  magnificent  sen- 
tences, euphonious  sentences,  sentences  which  invite  a 
rotund  and  lofty  delivery.  This  diction  is  often  cen- 
sured by  critics  as  '  fine  writing.'  But  you  must  have 
such  a  style  for  the  most  exact  utterance  of  certain 
elevated  and  impassioned  thought." 

The  error  is  usually  on  the  side  of  long  sentences ; 
sometimes  by  making  complex,  involved  sentences, 
and  sometimes  by  connecting  a  series  of  sentences  by 
colons  and  semicolons.  The  writer  should  not  hesitate 
to  use  periods.  A.  S.  Hill  says :  "  Even  when  the 
distinction  between  a  long  and  a  short  sentence  con- 
sists chiefly  in  punctuation,  the  mere  substitution  of 
colons  or  semicolons  for  periods  makes  a  world  of  dif- 
ference to  the  reader.      In  unbroken   succession,  long 


252  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

sentences  fatigue  the  eye  and  the  mind;  short  sen- 
tences distract  them.  The  skillful  writer  alternates 
the  two,  using  the  former  for  the  most  part  to  explain, 
the  latter  to  enforce  his  views."  Certain  habits  of 
thought  give  the  mind  a  tendency  toward  long  or  short 
sentences.  It  is  natural  for  some  to  express  them- 
selves in  short,  simple  statements,  while  others  uncon- 
sciously pack  the  sentence  with  all  the  incidental  ideas 
which  accompany  the  leading  thought;  others,  without 
having  distinct  thought,  as  in  the  case  of  children,  run 
statements  together  by  short  pauses  and  conjunctions. 
Nations,  too,  have  their  characteristic  type  of  sentence. 
The  French  use  short,  simple  sentences  ;  the  Germans, 
long,  involved,  complex  ones  ;  the  English,  being  a 
mixture  of  Norman-French  and  German,  naturally  pre- 
fer sentences  of  intermediate  length,  with  a  tendency, 
however,  to  the  German  type.  De  Quincey,  comparing 
the  English  sentence  with  the  French  and  German, 
says  :  — 

"  In  French  authors,  whatever  may  otherwise  be  the 
differences  of  their  minds  or  the  differences  of  their 
themes,  uniformly  we  find  the  periods  short,  rapid,  un- 
elaborate.  One  rise  in  every  sentence,  one  gentle 
descent  -  -  that  is  the  law  for  French  composition,  even 
too  monotonously  so  ;  and  thus  it  happens  that  such  a 
thing  as  a  long,  involved  sentence  could  not  be  pro- 
duced from  French  literature,  though  a  Sultan  were  to 
offer  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  the  man  who  should 
find  it. 

"The  character  of  German  prose  is  an  object  of 
legitimate  astonishment.      Whatever  is  bad  in  our  own 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  253 

ideal  of  prose  style,  whatever  is  most  repulsive  in  our 
own  practice,  we  see  there  carried  to  the  most  out- 
rageous excess.  Lessing,  Herder,  Richter,  and  Lich- 
tenberg,  with  some  few  beside,  either  prompted  by 
nature  or  trained  upon  foreign  models,  have  avoided 
the  besetting  sin  of  German  prose.  Among  ten  thou- 
sand offenders  we  would  single  out  Immanuel  Kant. 
A  sentence  is  viewed  by  him,  and  by  most  of  his  coun- 
trymen, as  a  rude  mould  or  elastic  form  admitting  of 
expansion,  to  any  possible  extent  ;  it  is  laid  down  as  a 
rude  outline,  and  then,  by  superstruction  and  episuper- 
struction,  it  is  gradually  reared  to  a  giddy  altitude 
which  no  eye  can  follow.  Yielding  to  his  natural  im- 
pulse of  subjoining  all  additions  or  exceptions  or  modi- 
fications, not  in  the  shape  of  separate  consecutive 
sentences,  but  as  intercalations  and  stuffings  of  one 
original  sentence,  Kant  might  naturally  enough  have 
written  a  book  from  beginning  to  end  in  one  vast 
hyperbolical  sentence." 

The  demand  which  the  truth  makes  upon  the  sen- 
tence cannot  always  be  reconciled  with  the  law  of  the 
economy  of  memory.  On  this  point  D.  J.  Hill  remarks: 
"  The  most  frequently  recurring  and  perplexing  problem 
of  style  is  to  adjust  the  equilibrium  between  these  two 
forces,  the  contracting  and  the  expanding.  Condensing 
the  sentence  too  much,  we  violate  truth  by  omitting 
details  and  ignoring  limitations.  Expanding  too  much, 
we  render  the  interpretation  of  the  sentence  impossible 
by  forcing  upon  the  mind  more  labor  than  it  can  per- 
form. A  reader  may,  indeed,  recur  to  the  beginning, 
if  he  be  conscious  of  failing  to  grasp  the  thought  fully, 


2  54  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

while  a  hearer  has  not  this  privilege.  On  this  account 
the  expansion  of  sentences  is  more  allowable  when  they 
are  written  than  when  they  are  spoken;  but  readers 
generally  are  not  willing  to  read  a  sentence  more  than 
once." 

To  impress  the  nature  of  this  error,  let  the  following 
long  sentences  be  broken  into  shorter  ones,  and  the 
greater  ease  of  interpretation  be  observed  :  — 

"Although  they  were  all  known  as  Saxons  by  the  Roman  peo- 
ple who  touched  them  only  on  their  southern  border  where  the 
Saxons  dwelt,  and  who  remained  ignorant  of  the  very  existence  of 
the  English  or  the  Jutes,  the  three  tribes  bore  among  themselves 
the  name  of  the  central  tribe  of  their  league,  the  name  of  English- 
men." 

"  Each  little  farmer  commonwealth  was  girt  in  by  its  own  border 
or  'mark,'  a  belt  of  forest  or  waste  of  fen  which  parted  it  from  its 
fellow-villages,  a  ring  of  common  ground  which  none  of  its  settlers 
might  take  for  his  own,  but  which  served  as  a  death  ground  where 
criminals  met  their  doom,  and  was  held  to  be  the  special  dwelling- 
place  of  the  nixie  and  the  will-o'-the-wisp." 

"  They  found,  in  fact,  a  crushing  answer  in  the  '  Ecclesiastical 
Polity  '  of  Richard  Hooker,  a  clergyman  who  had  been  Master  of 
the  Temple,  but  whose  taste  for  the  controversies  of  its  pulpit 
drove  him  from  London  to  a  Wiltshire  vicarage  at  Boscombe. 
which  he  exchanged  at  a  later  time  for  the  parsonage  of  Bishops- 
bourne,  among  the  quiet  meadows  of  Kent." 

"  They  sent  Tallien  to  seek  out  a  boy  lieutenant,  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  the  shadow  of  an  officer,  so  thin  and  pallid  that,  when 
he  was  placed  on  the  stand  before  them,  the  President  of  the 
Assembly,  fearful,  if  the  fate  of  France  rested  on  the  shrunken 
form,  the  ashy  cheek  before  him,  that  all  hope  was  gone,  asked: 
'  Young  man,  can  you  protect  the  Assembly  ? '  " 

Having  rejected  all  useless  material,  and  having  given 
the  mind  only  the  number  of  ideas  which  it  can  easily 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  255 

organize  in  a  single  act,  the  next  concern  of  the  com- 
poser is  with  the  placing  of  the  elements  so  that  they 
may  the  most  easily  and  effectively  be  organized  into  a 
whole. 

The  Proper  Arrangement  of  the  Sentence.  —  That  is,  as 
determined  by  the  respective  claims  of  the  memory  and 
imagination.  The  idea  expressed  by  the  principal  part 
of  the  subject,  is  the  organizing  idea  of  all  the  others 
expressed  in  that  subject,  while  the  idea  expressed  by 
the  whole  subject  is  the  organizing  idea  of  the  predi- 
cate. All  ideas  in  the  predicate  are  organized  into  the 
principal  one,  and  the  completed  idea  of  the  predicate 
is  organized  into  the  completed  idea  of  the  subject. 
As  the  result  of  the  interpreting  process,  one  concep- 
tion is  formed.  The  memory  must  hold  each  subor- 
dinate idea  until  a  principal  idea  is  reached.  The 
question  here  is,  In  what  order  should  the  constituent 
ideas  of  the  subject,  including  the  predicate,  be  pre- 
sented so  that  the  memory  will  have  the  least  possible 
labor  to  perform  ?  The  memory  must  bear  each  attri- 
bute and  object  until  an  idea  is  presented  in  which  they 
can  be  organized.  At  this  point  the  imagination  and 
the  judgment  relieve  the  memory  by  attaching  the 
attribute  or  object  to  the  leading  idea.  In  the  sentence, 
"A  few  dilapidated  old  buildings  still  stand  in  the 
deserted  village,"  all  the  ideas  are  organized  in  the  one 
expressed  by  the  word  "  buildings."  The  ideas  ex- 
pressed by  the  words  "A,"  "few,"  "dilapidated,"  and 
"old  "  are  borne  in  memory  until  the  idea  "buildings" 
is  suggested,  and  then  the  memory  is  relieved  by  the 
imagination,  which  constructs  the  picture  of  building, 


256  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

containing  the  attributes  that  the  memory  has  been 
holding  for  that  purpose.  The  idea  "  still  "  is  borne 
but  a  short  distance,  for  the  idea  "  stand,"  in  which  it 
is  organized,  is  immediately  suggested.  The  idea  "still 
stand  is  a  constituent  idea  of  "  A  few  dilapidated  old 
buildings,"  already  pictured  by  the  imagination,  and 
need  be  carried  no  further,  for  the  mind  at  once  has 
the  conception  of  these  buildings  as  standing.  The 
idea  of  a  certain  kind  of  buildings  as  standing  is  already 
in  the  mind  to  receive  the  idea  of  place  expressed  by 
the  phrase  "in  the  deserted  village."  In  two  of  the 
acts  of  interpretation,  the  organizing  idea  is  already  in 
the  mind  to  receive  the  additional  idea  as  soon  as  inter- 
preted; and  in  the  other  cases  the  ideas  are  almost 
instantly  deposited  in  their  subject.  Reversing  the 
order,  In  the  deserted  village  still  stand  a  few  dilapi- 
dated old  buildings,  and  the  memory  is  required  to  bear 
all  of  the  accessory  ideas  to  the  close.  The  effect  of 
this  in  a  single  sentence  is  so  slight  as  not  to  be  felt; 
but  a  series  of  such  will  soon  exhaust  the  energies  of 
the  mind,  and  leave  it  without  the  power  to  realize  the 
thought  conveyed.  The  tiresome  effect  is  perceptible 
in  a  single  long  sentence  arranged  with  the  organizing 
idea  at  the  close;  as, — 

•'  Farther  than  it  is  connected  with  the  high  intellectual  and  moral 
endowments  when  public  bodies  are  to  be  addressed  on  momen- 
tous occasions,  when  great  interests  arc  at  stake,  and  strong- 
passions  are  excited,  nothing  is  valuable  in  speech." 

Or  this:  — 

"  In  the  Old  Colonial  days  in  Plymouth,  the  land  of  the  Pilgrims, 
To  and  fro  in  a  room  of  his  simple  and  primitive  dwelling, 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  257 

Clad  in  doublet  and  hose,  and  boots  of  Cordovan  leather, 
Strode,  with  a  martial  air,  Miles  Standish,  the  Puritan  Captain." 

Sentences  in  which  the  organizing  idea  is  suspended 
till  the  close  are  called  Periodic  sentences;  those  in 
which  the  sense  and  the  grammatical  structure  are 
complete  before  the  close  —  the  organizing  idea  given 
before  the  close  —  are  called  Loose  sentences.  The 
periodic  sentence  favors  the  imagination,  but  the  loose 
sentence  is  required  to  bring  relief  to  the  memory. 
The  economy  of  memory  requires  that  each  idea  be 
placed  as  near  as  possible  to  the  one  to  which  it 
belongs.  This  order  is  the  subject  followed  by  its 
modifiers,  and  then  the  predicate  followed  by  its  modi- 
fiers. On  the  whole,  this  is  not  the  most  economical 
arrangement.  Subject  and  predicate  should  stand  in 
the  midst  of  their  modifiers.  What  is  called  the  natural 
order,  the  order  that  has  grown  up  under  the  instinct 
of  the  mind  for  ease  of  interpretation,  is  the  best  guide 
to  arrangement;  at  least  so  far  as  the  memory  is  con- 
cerned. And  this  is  subject,  copula,  predicate,  with  the 
modifiers  grouped  closely  about  each. 

But  the  claims  of  the  imagination  must  be  more  dis- 
tinctly recognized.  We  have  seen  that  the  imagination 
pictures  the  single  ideas  in  the  process  of  word  inter- 
pretation. It,  with  the  judgment,  also  combines  the 
separate  ideas  into  a  single  picture  or  conception.  To 
secure  ease  in  the  formation  of  the  picture  out  of  the 
separate  elements,  these  elements  must  be  supplied  in 
the  order  in  which  the  imagination  most  readily  and 
correctly  combines  them  into  the  new  product. 

In  the  interpretation  of  the  sentence,  "  A  few  dilapi- 


258  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

dated  old  buildings  still  stand  in  the  deserted  village," 
the  imagination  constructs  one  picture  out  of  the 
objects  and  attributes  named.  The  process  would 
have  been  different  had  the  sentence  been  arranged 
thus:  In  the  deserted  village,  still  stand  a  few  dilapi- 
dated old  buildings:  Or  thus:  Buildings,  a  few,  old, 
and  dilapidated,  still  stand  in  the  deserted  village.  In 
the  second,  all  the  attributes  which  characterize  the 
object  to  be  pictured  are  presented  before  the  object, 
buildings;  in  the  third,  the  concrete  object  is  first  pre- 
sented, and  then  the  attributes  added,  one  by  one. 
The  second  being  the  reverse  of  the  third,  the  law  of 
the  imagination  in  the  process  of  the  interpretation 
will  be  determined  by  ascertaining  which  of  the  two 
requires  the  least  effort  in  the  picture-constructing 
process. 

As  shown  in  Herbert  Spencer's  "  Philosophy  of 
Style,"  the  third  has  decidedly  the  preference.  While 
the  law  of  memory  requires  the  organizing  idea  to  be 
presented  first,  the  law  of  the  imagination  requires  it 
to  be  presented  last.  When  the  concrete  image  is 
given  at  the  outset,  as  in  the  last  sentence,  a  complete 
and,  most  certainly,  an  incorrect  image  is  formed;  and 
when  the  succeeding  elements  are  named,  the  imagina- 
tion must  reform  the  picture  by  removing  the  incorrect 
attributes  and  adding  the  correct  ones.  The  first 
impression  is  apt  to  persist  in  the  mind  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  the  correct  one.  Thus  we  frequently  carry 
away  from  a  conversation  what  we  imagine  a  person 
said  for  what  he  really  did  say.  In  the  last  sentence, 
when  buildings  are  expressed,  the  imagination  makes 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  259 

a  complete  picture  of  them,  anticipating  their  number, 
condition,  color,  position,  and  surroundings.  But  as 
the  sentence  continues,  it  first  limits  the  number  to  "a 
few,"  requiring  any  previous  conception  of  number  to 
be  changed  and  a  new  one  to  be  substituted.  The  few 
buildings  now  in  mind  may  be  new;  and  this  attribute 
must  be  removed  and  the  picture  changed  to  include 
the  old.  And  so  on,  at  each  successive  step.  But  in 
the  second  sentence,  in  which  all  the  abstract  elements 
are  first  presented,  i.e.,  the  attributes  named,  without 
any  subject  to  which  they  may  be  attached,  the  imagi- 
nation brings  them  all  at  once  to  the  concrete  image  of 
buildings;  again  illustrating  how  labor  is  imposed  on 
the  memory,  and  how  it  is  compensated  by  the  gain  to 
the  imagination. 

The  requirements  of  the  memory  and  the  imagina- 
tion are  antagonistic;  and  the  two  forms  of  the  sen- 
tence, the  loose  and  the  periodic,  growing  out  of  the 
requirements  of  each,  stand  in  reverse  relation  to  these 
faculties.  One  of  these  forms  cannot  be  said  to  be 
better  than  the  other.  The  tension  between  them 
gives  rise  to  an  intermediate  form,  a  compromise,  which 
is  better  than  either,  as  in  the  first  sentence.  Each 
form  has  its  advantage  and  its  disadvantage.  The  loose 
sentence  rests  the  mind,  the  sense  and  the  grammatical 
structure  being  complete  at  the  points  before  the  close 
is  reached.  But  this  is  a  double  source  of  error:  (i) 
the  mind  may  be  satisfied  with  the  partial  truth  and 
withdraw  attention  before  all  the  modifying  circum- 
stances correct  and  amplify  what  precedes  them;  (2) 
the  habit  of  the  imagination  to  fill  out  the  picture  when 


26o  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

a  concrete  object  is  named  and  of  anticipating  what 
the  writer  is  to  say  makes  necessary  a  series  of  correc- 
tions. The  periodic  sentence,  in  bringing  the  mind 
directly  to  the  correct  conception,  relieves  the  imagina- 
tion from  the  necessity  of  readjusting  its  work.  It 
also  prevents  error  in  another  way.  In  the  very  nature 
of  the  case  the  attention  is  compelled  to  the  close,  and 
no  error  can  arise  by  the  omission  of  qualifying  circum- 
stances. With  all  of  this,  it  imposes  a  burden  on  the 
carrying  power  of  the  mind,  and  requires  a  higher 
tension  of  activity,  which  soon  exhausts  the  energies 
of  the  mind  to  such  a  degree  that  the  thought  will  be 
entirely  lost.  What  is  called  the  natural  order  of  the 
sentence  is  a  compromise  between  the  periodic  and 
the  loose  sentence,  with  the  difference  in  favor  of  the 
loose.  Both  the  natural  and  the  loose  sentence  require 
this  order:  subject,  copula,  and  predicate,  and  certain 
modifiers,  as  the  explanatory,  the  objective,  and  phrase 
and  clause  modifiers  to  follow  the  part  modified;  while 
adjective  and  possessive  modifiers,  and  in  most  cases 
the  adverb,  precede  the  part  modified.  The  natural 
order  should  not,  however,  be  considered  as  opposed 
to  the  periodic  order.  For  some  moods  of  mind,  the 
periodic,  or  what  is  often  called  the  inverted  order,  is 
the  only  form  natural.  The  habitual  use  of  either  form 
in  a  single  discourse  characterizes  the  style  of  the  whole 
as  natural  or  inverted — loose  or  periodic.  Spencer 
suggests  that,  "  A  more  appropriate  title  would  be  the 
direct  style,  as  contrasted  with  the  other,  or  indirect 
style;  the  peculiarity  of  the  one  being,  that  it  conveys 
each  thought   into  the  mind  step  by  step,   with  little 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  26 1 

liability  to  err;  and  of  the  other,  that  it  gets  the  right 
thought  conceived  by  a  series  of  approximations." 

Since  one  style  is  economy  to  one  faculty  and  a  bur- 
den to  the  other,  and  since  the  other  style  reverses  the 
economy  and  the  burden,  an  intermediate  sentence, 
which  combines  as  far  as  possible  the  merits  of  the 
others,  is  preferable. 

Let  the  following  sentences  be  arranged  in  the 
different  ways  and  the  relative  ease  of  interpretation 
tested :  — 

1.  "  The  live  thunder  leaps  far  along  from  peak  to  peak,  among 
the  rattling  crags." 

2.  "  And  this  our  life,  exempt  from  public  haunt,  finds  tongues  in 
trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones,  and  good 
in  everything." 

3.  "  At  last,  after  no  small  difficulty,  and  after  much  fatigue,  we 
came,  through  deep  roads  and  bad  weather,  to  our  journey's  end." 

4.  "  Endowed  with  a  rare  purity  of  intellect,  a  classic  beauty  of 
expression,  a  yearning  tenderness  toward  all  God's  creatures,  no 
poet  appeals  more  tenderly  than  Shelley  to  our  love  for  the  beauti- 
ful, to  our  respect  for  our  fellow  men,  to  our  heartfelt  charity  for 
human  weakness." 

5.  "No  nobler  feeling  than  this  of  admiration  for  one  higher 
than  himself  dwells  in  the  breast  of  man." 

6.  "  As  long  as  you  have  the  wisdom  to  keep  the  sovereign 
authority  of  this  country  as  the  sanctuary  of  liberty,  the  sacred 
temple  consecrated  to  our  common  faith,  wherever  the  chosen 
race  and  sons  of  England  worship  freedom,  they  will  turn  their 
faces  towards  you." 

7.  "  At  Attri  in  Abruzzo,  a  small  town 

Of  ancient  Roman  date,  but  scant  renown,  — 
One  of  those  little  places  that  have  run 
Halfway  up  the  hill,  beneath  the  blazing  sun, 


262  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

And  then  sat  down  to  rest,  as  if  to  say, 

'  I  climb  no  farther  upward,  come  what  may,'  — 

The  Re  Giovanni,  not  unknown  to  fame, 

So  many  monarchs  since  have  borne  the  name, 

Had  a  great  bell  hung  in  the  market-place." 

We  come  now  to  what  is  more  strictly  called  the 
quality  of  unity  in  the  language.  While  the  preced- 
ing qualities  are  essential  to  it,  the  very  structure  of 
the  thought  and  the  language  must  enforce  unity. 

Unity  of  Sentence  Structure.  —  This  is  required  to 
economize  the  interpreting  activity  of  the  imagination 
and  judgment.  Every  sentence  expresses  but  one 
object  of  thought.  About  this  object  all  the  words 
are  organized.  The  sentence  is  an  organic  unit,  and 
should  be  so  arranged  as  to  bring  the  mind  readily 
and  correctly  to  the  organizing  idea.  Unity  is  that 
quality  of  the  sentence  by  which  the  central  idea  is 
kept  obvious  while  the  elements  of  the  thought  are 
being  presented  one  by  one.  Either  the  loose  or  the 
periodic  sentence  may  have  this  quality,  but  the  periodic 
sentence  is  the  more  conducive  to  it.  Unity  is  also 
more  readily  secured  in  short  sentences  than  in  long 
ones.  In  fact,  the  chief  objection  to  the  long  sentence 
is  the  difficulty  of  arranging  its  parts  so  as  to  keep 
the  leading  idea  before  the  mind.  But  whatever  the 
length  or  the  kind,  there  can  be  no  compromise  in  the 
matter  of  unity.  "  Some  one  object  must  reign  and 
be  prominent."  It  may  consist  of  parts  indeed;  but 
those  parts  must  be  so  closely  bound  together  as  to 
make  the  impression  of  one  object  on  the  mind,  not  of 
many. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  263 

Distinctness  of  conception  is  the  prime  condition 
to  unity  of  thought.  If  the  composer,  having  decided 
what  one  idea  the  sentence  is  to  exist  for,  holds  clearly 
and  organically  the  elements  of  the  complex  idea  which 
he  wishes  to  express,  he  will  unconsciously  obey  the 
law  of  unity.  That  confusion  and  unsteadiness  of 
mind  which  mingle  ideas  having  little  connection,  and 
which  turn  to  a  new  subject  by  every  idea  suggested, 
will  necessarily  confuse  the  reader  by  incoherency  of 
ideas  in  the  sentence. 

Lack  of  unity  in  thought  appears  in  two  forms:  (i) 
the  change  of  subject  or  scene  in  the  course  of  a  com- 
pound sentence;  (2)  the  crowding  of  things  which 
have  little  connection  into  one  sentence. 

1.  The  mind  should  not  be  hurried  by  sudden  tran- 
sitions from  subject  to  subject,  as  in  the  following:  — 

"  After  we  came  to  anchor,  they  put  me  on  shore,  where  I  was 
welcomed  by  my  friends,  who  received  me  with  the  greatest 
kindness." 

Here  there  are  four  subjects :  we,  I,  they,  who. 
While  the  objects  themselves  are  closely  enough  re- 
lated in  the  matter  under  discussion,  yet  in  shifting 
the  subject  of  thought  from  one  to  another,  the  con- 
nection is  almost  lost.  The  difficulty  would  have  been 
avoided  had  it  been  written  thus  :  — 

"  After  we  came  to  anchor  I  was  put  on  shore,  where  I  was 
welcomed  by  all  my  friends,  and  received  with  great  kindness." 

2.  Ideas  which  have  little  connection  should  never 
be  confused  and  crowded  into  one  sentence.  Such 
often  arises  from  an  effort  to  express  as  much  as  pos- 


264  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

sible  in  a  single  statement.  But  although  they  be 
short,  clearness  requires  separate  statements  for  dis- 
connected ideas,  rather  than  to  have  them  condensed 
into  one  overloaded  and  embarrassed  sentence.  The 
following  used  by  Blair  illustrates  the  nature  of  this 
error :  — 

"  Archbishop  Tillotson  died  in  this  year.  He  was  exceedingly 
beloved  both  by  King  William  and  Queen  Mary,  who  nominated 
Dr.  Tennison,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  to  succeed  him." 

The  last  part  of  this  sentence  would  not  have  been 
expected  from  the  first.  In  the  first  part,  the  mind  is 
resting  in  the  love  of  King  William  and  Queen  Mary 
for  Tillotson,  and  expects  other  matter  connected  with 
this  love;  but  it  is  abruptly  turned  to  an  event  wholly 
disconnected. 

Closely  connected  with  this  violation  of  unity  is  that 
of  the  use  of  parentheses  in  the  middle  of  sentences. 
Such  expressions  often  indicate  a  lack  of  art  on  the 
part  of  the  writer.  He  has  a  thought  which  he  does 
not  know  how  to  dispose  of.  Not  having  skill  to 
organize  it  in  the  line  of  thought,  he  drops  it  in  the 
midst  of  a  statement,  with  the  certain  effect  of  divert- 
ing the  attention  from  the  main  subject.  In  some 
cases  parentheses  may  be  unavoidable;  but  the  writer 
should  beware  of  them. 

The  footnote  is  only  less  objectionable  than  the 
parentheses  because  it  is  easier  skipped  by  the  reader. 
"Such  excrescences,"  says  D.  J.  Hill,  "are  omnipres- 
ent reminders  of  the  limitations  of  language  as  a 
medium  of  expression.  Just  in  proportion  as  an  author 
allows  this  sign  of  weakness  to  exhibit   itself,  in  that 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  265 

proportion  he  confesses  his  own  insufficiency  or  that 
of  his  medium.  Yet  insufficiency  is  likely  to  show 
itself  somewhere.  He  who  always  writes  short  sen- 
tences, and  puts  his  whole  thought  into  them,  must 
take  a  very  short  sweep  of  view.  He  who  writes  long 
ones  must  tax  the  interpreting  power  of  his  readers. 
He  who  constantly  lets  his  thoughts  overflow  his  sen- 
tences and  drip  down  into  footnotes  virtually  abandons 
an  artistic  solution  of  the  great  problem  of  style  for  a 
coarse  expedient." 

Point  out  the  nature  of  the  error  in  the  following:, 
and  reconstruct  so  as  to  give  unity  :  — 

1.  "In  this  uneasy  state,  both  of  public  and  private  life,  Cicero 
was  oppressed  by  a  new  and  cruel  affliction,  the  death  of  his 
beloved  daughter  Tullia;  which  happened  soon  after  her  divorce 
from  Dollabella;  whose  manners  and  humors  were  entirely  disa- 
greeable to  her." 

2.  "In  summer  reindeer  feed  on  various  kinds  of  plants,  and 
seek  the  highest  hill  to  avoid  the  gadfly,  which  at  that  period 
deposits  its  eggs  in  their  skins,  from  which  cause  many  of  them 
die." 

3.  "The  march  of  the  Greeks  was  through  an  uncultivated 
country,  whose  savage  inhabitants  fared  hardly,  having  no  other 
riches  than  a  breed  of  lean  sheep,  whose  flesh  was  rank  and  un- 
savory, by  reason  of  their  continual  feeding  on  seafish." 

4.  "  The  Britons,  daily  harassed  by  the  Picts,  were  forced  to 
call  in  the  Saxons  for  their  defense,  who,  after  having  repelled  the 
invaders,  turned  their  arms  against  the  Britons  themselves,  drove 
them  into  the  most  remote  and  mountainous  parts  of  the  kingdom, 
and  reduced  the  greater  part  of  the  island  under  their  dominion, 
so  that  in  the  course  of  a  century  and  a  half  the  country  became 
almost  wholly  Saxon  in  customs,  religion,  and  language." 

5.  "  At  last  the  coach  stopped,  and  the  driver,  opening  the 
door,  told  us  to  get  out;  which  we  did,  and  found  ourselves  in 


266  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

front  of  a  large  tavern,  whose  bright  and  ruddy  windows  told  of 
the  blazing  fires  within;  which,  together  with  the  kind  welcome 
of  the  hostess,  and  the  bounteous  supper  that  smoked  upon  the 
board,  soon  made  us  forget  the  hardships  of  the  long,  cold  ride." 
6.  "  The  quicksilver  mines  of  Indria,  in  Austria  (which  were 
discovered  in  1 797,  by  a  peasant,  who,  catching  some  water  from 
a  spring,  found  the  tub  so  heavy  that  he  could  not  move  it,  and 
the  bottom  covered  with  a  shining  substance  which  turned  out 
to  be  mercury),  yield,  every  year,  over  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds  of  this  valuable  metal." 

Unity  of  ideas  avails  little  without  unity  of  sentence 
structure  to  indicate  the  relation  of  the  ideas.  The 
sentence,  in  expressing  a  thought,  must  express  the 
relation  of  the  ideas  which  constitute  the  thought. 
When  the  thought  has  unity,  as  above  stated,  and  the 
sentence  is  so  constructed  as  to  express  that  unity,  the 
sentence  itself  is  said  to  have  that  quality.  In  one 
sense  this  quality  may  be  called  precision  —  the  exact 
fit  of  the  words  to  the  thought. 

The  relation  of  ideas  in  the  thought  is  indicated  in 
four  ways:  (1)  by  the  position  of  words  in  the  sentence; 
(2)  by  relative  words;  (3)  by  grammatical  inflection; 
(4)  by  punctuation. 

Therefore,  unity  is  secured  by  the  correct  placing  of 
words,  the  correct  use  of  relative  words,  correct  syntax, 
and  correct  punctuation.  Thus  we  arrive  at  the  ques- 
tion of  correctness  in  its  relation  to  effectiveness  —  at 
the  point  of  dependence  of  Rhetoric  upon  Grammar. 
Accordingly,  this  matter  should  be  referred  to  Gram- 
mar for  treatment.  There  is,  however,  a  phase  of  "  I  ' 
and  "  2  "  that  falls  to  Rhetoric,  because  the  questions 
that  arise  are  answered  by  the  law  of  clearness  which 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  267 

applies    to    the    particular   case,    rather  than  by  fixed 
rules  of  sentence  formation. 

1.  Since  English  words  have  lost  most  of  their 
inflections,  the  relation  of  ideas  is  generally  indicated 
by  the  position  of  words  expressing  them.  The  gen- 
eral law  of  position  may  be  stated  thus:- 

The  position  of  words  in  the  sentence  should  be  such  as 
to  indicate  clearly  the  relation  of  the  ideas  in  the  thought. 

This  requires  words  which  express  ideas  most  closely 
related  in  thought  to  stand  as  nearly  together  as  pos- 
sible in  the  sentence.  Close  connection  in  position 
indicates  close  connection  in  meaning. 

The  wrong  placing  of  words  gives  rise  to  Confusion, 

Ambiguity,    or    Obscurity.      In    all    cases    this    error 

engrosses  the  attention  and  weakens  the  effect.     The 

two  following  sentences  criticised  by  G.  Washington 

Moon,  in  "The  Dean's  English,"  illustrates  the  nature 

of  the  error:  — 

"  The  great  enemies  to  understanding  anything  printed  in  our 
language  are  the  commas.  And  these  are  inserted  by  the  com- 
positors without  the  slightest  compunction." 

The  meaning  intended  was,  that  the  commas  are 
inserted  without  compunction;  but  by  the  order  of 
the  words,  they  describe  the  character  of  the  com- 
positors, —  the  compositors  are  without  the  slightest 
compunction.  The  context  prevents  ambiguity  or 
obscurity,  but  not  the  confusion  and  the  unnecessary 
effort  in  the  organizing  act.  In  realizing  the  thought, 
as  the  ideas  are  here  presented,  the  mind  gains  a  wrong 
conception  of  compositors;  and,  observing  the  relation 
they   sustain  to  the   other  ideas,  the  notion  must  be 


268  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

corrected  by  transferring  the  idea  "  without  compunc- 
tion "  to  the  manner  of  insertion. 

"  A  man  does  not  lose  his  mother  now  in  the  papers." 

This  means  that,  according  to  the  papers,  a  man 
does  not  now  lose  his  mother.  The  arrangement  of 
the  sentence  leads  to  a  grotesque  conception,  which  is 
readily  corrected  by  the  context.  But  why  should  the 
labor  of  correction  be  exacted  from  the  reader  ? 

The  following  sentence  illustrates  ambiguity  by  a 
misplaced  modifier:  — 

"  Rome  once  more  ruled  over  the  prostrate  nations  by  the 
power  of  superstition." 

This  means  either  that  Rome  had  once  ruled  over 
the  nations  by  the  power  of  superstition,  and  now 
ruled  them  thus  again,  or  that  she  has  formerly  ruled 
them  by  some  other  means  and  now  ruled  them  by  the 
power  of  superstition. 

Point  out  the  burden  that  each  of  the  following 
imposes  on  the  interpreting  mind,  and  correct  so  as  to 
remove  the  obstruction:  — 

i.  "  The  dexterity  of  the  Chinese  juggler  almost  appears  mirac- 
ulous." 

2.  "  It  is  folly  to  pretend  to  arm  ourselves  against  the  accidents 
of  life  by  heaping  up  treasures,  which  nothing  can  protect  us 
against." 

3.  "  There  is  a  cavern  in  the  island  of  Hoonga,  which  can  only 
be  entered  by  diving  into  the  sea." 

4.  "  Thos.  W.  Coke  put  an  end  to  the  American  war  by  moving 
its  cessation  in  the  House  of  Commons," 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  269 

5.  "  A  straight  line  can  only  cut  the  circumference  of  a  circle 
at  two  points." 

6.  "  I  shall  neither  attempt  to  palliate  it  nor  deny  it." 

7.  "  The  journals  not  only  spoke  in  high  terms  of  Mr.  Moon's 
powers  as  a  critic  but  also  as  a  writer." 

8.  "  He  is  to  speak  of  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  at  the 
Academy  of  Music." 

9.  "  Sewal  refused  to  accept  of  inexperienced  persons  recom- 
mended by  the  pontiff  of  beneficies,  on  the  ground  of  their 
ignorance  of  the  English  language." 

10.  "The  Greeks  fearing  to  be  surrounded  on  all  sides, 
wheeled  about  and  halted,  with  the  river  on  their  backs." 

11.  "He  advanced  against  the  fierce  ancient,  imitating  his 
address,  his  pace  and  career,  as  well  as  the  vigor  of  his  horse,  and 
his  own  skill  would  allow." 

12.  "A  man  can  only  attain  to  distinction  in  one  line  by 
devoting  his  whole  life  to  that  line." 

13.  "  But  the  effect  is  not  alone  seen  in  the  drunkard." 


Energy,  through  unity  of  structure,  further  requires 
that  the  words  be  so  arranged  as  to  give  emphasis 
to  the  prominent  idea.  In  oral  speech  emphasis  is 
given  to  the  principal  idea  by  the  manner  of  speak- 
ing; but  in  written  speech  emphasis  is  marked  by  itali- 
cized words,  and  by  the  position  of  words.  Usually 
italics  indicate  a  lack  of  skill  in  forcible  arrangement. 
Words  must  be  so  placed  that  they  will  emphasize 
themselves.  This  is  an  essential  condition  to  leading 
the  mind  of  the  interpreter  correctly  and  without  loss 
of  effort  to  the  unity  of  the  thought  expressed. 

The  arrangement  of  language  is  a  most  effective 
means  of  securing  energy.  Ideas  may  be  so  organized 
in  the  expression  as  to  secure  stress  of  attention  on 
those   ideas   which   need  to   be  most    thoroughly   im- 


27O  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

pressed;  or,  so  that  a  constant  stress  of  attention  will 
be  required  on  the  thought  as  a  whole.  This  gives  the 
energy  of  emphasis,  which  directs  attention  to  the  idea 
which  the  writer  desires  to  make  prominent;  and  the 
energy  of  suspense,  which  compels  attention  to  the 
close.     Both   are   secured  by  arrangement. 

a.  Emphatic  ideas  seek  prominent  places.  "  Sweet 
are  the  uses  of  adversity."  Change  this  to,  The  uses 
of  adversity  are  sweet,  and  the  weakness  is  at  once 
felt.  In  this  case,  the  emphatic  word  stands  at  the 
beginning  of  the  sentence.  The  end  of  the  sentence 
is  a  still  more  emphatic  position.  It  is  important  that 
the  significant  word  gather  up  the  meaning  at  the  close. 
If  this  word  is  such  as  to  give  the  sentence  a  full  ca- 
dence, Energy  is  still  further  secured.  For  this  reason, 
unless  the  connection  gives  it  emphasis,  a  small  word 
should  not  close  a  sentence.  The  arbitrary  rule,  so 
often  laid  down,  that  a  preposition  should  never  close 
a  sentence  applies  only  to  pleasant  cadence.  Emphasis 
may  require  such  a  closing;  at  any  rate,  the  best 
writers  do  so  close  their  sentences,  and  with  good  effect. 
The  only  rule  that  applies  when  Energy  is  to  be  se- 
cured is  that  an  insignificant  word  should  neither  begin 
nor  close  the  sentence. 

Energy  through  emphasis  may  require  the  inverted 
order  of  the  sentence;  and  the  order  itself  contributes 
to  Energy.  Not  only  because  it  is  unusual,  but  because 
the  energy  of  feeling,  when  it  accompanies  thought, 
naturally  tends  to  invert  the  sentence  —  feeling  revers- 
ing the  order  of  thought. 

Note    in    the    following    sentences    how    Energy   is 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  27 1 

secured    through    inversion    and    the    placing    of    the 
significant  ideas :  — 

1.  "  Beyond  that  I  seek  not  to  penetrate  the  veil." 

2.  "  Now  all  is  to  be  changed." 

3.  "  In  no  country,  perhaps,  in  the  world  is  the  law  so  general 
a  study." 

4.  "In  large  bodies,  the  circulation  of  power  is  less  vigorous  at 
the  extremities." 

5.  "  Slavery  they  can  have  anywhere." 

6.  "  But  until  you  become  lost  to  all  feeling  of  your  true  interest 
and  your  natural  dignity,  freedom  they  can  have  from  none  but 
you." 

The  beginning  or  the  end  are  the  emphatic  places 
of  the  sentence;  and  a  word,  to  be  emphatic,  must 
stand  in  one  or  the  other  of  these  places.  Which  of 
the  two  it  shall  occupy  is  determined  by  its  usual 
position.  If  the  word  usually  stands  first,  it  is  made 
emphatic  by  removing  it  to  the  close;  and  if  it  usually 
stands  at  the  close,  it  should  be  removed  to  the  begin- 
ning. Emphasis  reverses  the  grammatical  order,  and 
attracts  attention  to  ideas  by  expressing  them  out  of 
their  accustomed  places.  The  verb,  adjective,  and  noun 
as  predicate  gain  special  distinction  by  standing  in  the 
place  of  the  subject;  modifiers,  by  changing  places  with 
the  objects  which  they  modify;  and  subjects,  by  being 
driven  to  the  close  of  the  sentence. 

The  anticipative  expressions  it  is,  there  is  (or  there  are) 
are  frequently  used  as  means  of  giving  the  subject  an 
emphatic  place  at  the  close.  These  words  stand  pro- 
visionally for  the  subject,  leaving  it  free  to  seek  the 
most  distinctive  position.     This  is  a  double  source  of 


272  THE    SCJENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

emphasis;  for,  besides  securing  emphatic  position, 
expectation  is  aroused,  and  more  mental  energy  is 
expended  on  the  idea  when  reached.  This  fact  brings 
us  to  another  principle  of  the  periodic  structure  of  the 
sentence.  This,  as  already  noted,  reverses  the  ordi- 
nary arrangement,  and  so  fulfills  the  law  of  emphasis. 
In  this  the  leading  idea  is  kept  back  till  the  close; 
thus  stimulating  the  mind  by  anticipation  and  curiosity, 
it  is  prepared  to  receive  the  idea  with  its  full  force 
when  presented. 

Explain  the  arrangement  by  which  emphasis  is 
secured  in  the  following,  and  examine  selections  from 
authors,  noting  their  method  of  emphasis:  — 

1.  "  Now  is  the  accepted  time."  2.  Had  I  known  of  the  acci- 
dent, I  should  have  gone.  3.  "  Flashed  all  their  sabres  bare."  4. 
He  left  the  room  quickly.  5.  Insolent  though  he  was,  he  was  silent 
at  last.  6.  It  was  Lincoln  who  freed  the  slaves.  7.  "  We  ought 
not  to  bestow  the  reverence  that  is  due  to  the  great  benefactors  of 
mankind  upon  a  mere  conqueror."  8.  "  Jesus  I  know,  and  Paul 
I  know;  but  who  are  ye?"  9.  "  Military  courage,  the  boast  of 
the  sottish  German,  of  the  frivolous  and  prating  Frenchman,  of  the 
romantic  and  arrogant  Spaniard,  he  neither  possesses  nor  values." 
10.  "  On  whatever  side  we  contemplate  Homer,  what  principally 
strikes  us  is  his  wonderful  invention."  11.  "  Slowly  and  sadly  we 
laid  him  down."  12.  "  Certainly  the  spread  of  religion  will  ele- 
vate the  morals  of  a  country  if  anything  will."  13.  "  Fain  would 
I  pause  to  dwell  upon  the  world  of  charms  that  burst  upon  the 
enraptured  gaze  of  my  hero  as  he  entered  the  state  parlor  of  Van 
Tassel's  mansion." 

14.  "  It  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago, 
In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
That  a  maiden  there  lived  whom  you  may  know 
By  the  name  of  Annabel  Lee." 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  273 

15.  "  In  the  greenest  of  our  valleys 
By  good  angels  tenanted, 
Once  a  fair  and  stately  palace  — 
Radiant  palace  —  reared  its  head." 

b.  Attention  through  suspense  is  secured  through 
the  periodic  structure.  This  arrangement  throws  for- 
ward emphasis  to  the  end,  excites  expectation,  and 
compels  attention  to  the  close.  This  structure  is  essen- 
tial to  dignified  and  lofty  thought.  The  following  from 
Burke's  speech  on  "  Conciliation  with  America  "  are 
good  examples  of  Energy  through  this  means:  — 

1.  "While  we  follow  them  among  the  tumbling  mountains  of 
ice,  and  behold  them  penetrating  into  the  deepest  frozen  recesses 
of  Hudson  Bay  and  Davis  Strait,  whilst  we  are  looking  for  them 
beneath  the  arctic  circle,  we  hear  that  they  have  pierced  into  the 
opposite  region  of  polar  cold." 

2.  "When  I  contemplate  these  things;  when  I  know  that  the 
colonies  owe  little  or  nothing  to  any  care  of  ours  and  that  they 
are  not  squeezed  into  this  happy  form  by  the  constraints  of  watch- 
ful and  suspicious  government,  but  that,  through  a  wise  and  salu- 
tary neglect,  a  generous  nature  has  been  suffered  to  take  her  own 
way  to  perfection,  —  when  I  reflect  upon  these  effects,  when  I  see 
how  profitable  they  have  been  to  us,  I  feel  all  the  pride  of  power 
sink,  and  all  the  presumption  in  the  wisdom  of  human  contrivances 
melt  and  die  away  in  me." 

Not  only  the  sentence,  but  the  entire  discourse  may 
have  the  periodic  structure.  In  this,  as  in  the  sentence, 
the  point  to  be  brought  out  is  suspended  till  the  close, 
thus  exciting  expectation  and  compelling  attention 
throughout.  The  recipient  is  made  to  feel  that  if  his 
attention  at  any  time  should  relax  he  would  miss 
something  important  to  follow.     And  this  attention  is 


■  ^^LA 


274  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

intensified  by  curiosity  aroused  by  the  suspense.  If  this 
structure  is  not  skillfully  managed,  however,  the  com- 
poser loses  more  than  he  gains.  Unless  curiosity  can 
be  greatly  excited,  or  there  is  habit  of  prolonged  atten- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  recipient,  there  is  danger  of 
losing  attention  altogether.  The  element  of  curiosity 
must  not  be  relied  on  as  the  chief  source  of  the  inter- 
est, as  is  usual  in  the  lower  grade  of  novels.  Mere 
curiosity  to  know  the  outcome  is  not  a  legitimate 
means  of  sustaining  the  interest  and  holding  the  at- 
tention. Shakespeare,  feeling  that  there  is  a  deeper 
source  of  interest  than  curiosity,  keeps  back  no  secrets, 
but  reveals  the  truth  as  rapidly  as  the  development 
permits.  But  under  certain  conditions  and  within  cer- 
tain limits,  the  chief  thought  may  be  withheld  until 
the  mind  is  opened  and  well  prepared  by  circumstan- 
tial truths  and  a  general  background  of  thought  and 
sentiment. 

2.  Not  only  is  the  relation  of  ideas  indicated  by  the 
position  of  words,  but  also  by  the  use  of  relative  words, 
as  already  stated.  These  words  include  such  as  refer 
to  an  antecedent  for  their  meaning;  namely,  pronouns 
—  personal,  relative,  and  demonstrative-- conjunctive 
adverbs,  prepositions,  and  phrases  of  reference. 

Either  (a)  the  incorrect  use  of  these  or  (b)  their 
omission  or  the  omission  of  some  word  to  which  they 
refer  confuses  the  mind,  and  often  leads  to  obscurity 
or  ambiguity. 

a.  Relative  words  refer  to  some  antecedent  term ; 
and  error  arises  when  they  are  so  used  that  it  is  not 
clear  which  of  several  apparent  antecedents  is  the  real 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  275 

one.  Accordingly,  the  simple  rule  is  to  use  relative 
words  so  that  their  antecedents  are  obvious  and  unmis- 
takable. In  the  case  of  pronouns,  they  should  follow 
the  nouns  to  which  they  refer  without  the  intervention 
of  another  noun.  And  further,  as  stated  by  Campbell: 
"  It  is  but  seldom  that  the  same  pronoun  can  be  used 
twice  or  oftener  in  the  same  sentence,  in  reference  to 
different  things,  without  darkening  the  expression." 
But  in  short,  whatever  the  relative  word,  its  reference 
must  be  so  certain  that  the  reader  or  hearer  need  give 
no  attention  to  making  out  the  connection  intended. 

In  the  following,  show  how  the  mind  is  unnecessarily 
engaged  by  uncertain  reference  of  relatives  to  their 
antecedents: — 

1.  "  Her  home  was  near  the  village  church,  and  this  seems  to 
have  had  great  influence  on  her  religious  character." 

2.  "  Thus  patriotism  begets  patriotism  and  makes  the  Republic 
a  nation  of  patriots,  which  becomes  evident  when  the  occasion  is 
presented." 

3.  "I  saw  my  old  schoolfellow  again  by  mere  accident  when  I 
was  in  London  at  the  time  of  the  first  Exhibition,  walking  down 
Regent  Street  and  looking  at  the  shops." 

4.  "  The  laws  of  nature  are  truly,  what  my  Lord  Bacon  styles 
his  aphorisms,  laws  of  laws.  Civil  laws  are  always  imperfect,  and 
often  false  deductions  from  them,  or  application  of  them;  nay 
they  stand  in  many  instances  in  direct  opposition  to  them." 

5.  "  When  a  man  considers  the  state  of  his  own  mind,  about 
which  every  member  of  the  Christian  world  is  supposed  at  this 
time  to  be  employed,  he  will  find  that  the  best  defense  against 
vice  is  preserving  the  worthiest  part  of  his  own  spirit  pure  from 
any  great  offense  against  it." 

6.  "  The  general  told  him  that  he  thought  he  had  come  none 
too  soon." 


276  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

7.  "  This  hill  forms  a  very  pleasing  part  of  this  picture,  but  the 
most  pleasing  part  of  it  is  the  trees  that  surround  these  houses." 

8.  "  Are  our  schools  so  conducted  that  the  poor  can  and  must 
attend  ?  Any  one  who  has  visited  American  cities  will  answer  that 
they  do  not,  on  account  of  their  poverty." 

9.  "  And  since  at  least  a  part  of  the  emigrants  are  provided  with 
specie  it  brings  a  considerable  amount  of  money  to  this  country." 

10.  "One  may  have  an  air  which  proceeds  from  a  just  suffi- 
ciency and  knowledge  of  the  matter  before  him,  which  may  natur- 
ally produce  some  motion  of  his  head  and  body  which  might 
become  the  bench  better  than  the  bar." 

11.  "  The  sharks  who  prey  on  the  inadvertency  of  young  heirs, 
are  more  pardonable  than  those,  who  trespass  upon  the  good 
opinion  of  those,  who  treat  with  them  upon  the  foot  of  choice  and 
respect." 

12.  "  They  were  persons  of  such  modern  intellects,  even  before 
they  were  impaired  by  their  passions." 

13.  "  While  treating  of  pronunciation  of  those  who  minister  in 
public,  two  other  words  occur  to  me  which  are  very  commonly 
mangled  by  our  clergy.  One  of  them  is  covetous,  and  its  substan- 
tive covetousness.  I  hope  some  who  read  these  lines,  will  be  in- 
duced to  leave  off  pronouncing  them  covetious  and  covetiousness. 
I  can  assure  them  that  when  they  do  thus  call  them,  one,  at  least, 
of  their  hearers  has  his  appreciation  of  their  teaching  disturbed." 

b.  The  omission  of  words  necessary  to  make  the 
connection  clear  is  a  common  violation  of  the  law  of 
economy  of  attention;  thus:  — 

Cardinal  Richelieu  hated  Buckingham  as  sincerely  as  the 
Spaniard  Olivares  —  as  did  the  Spaniard  Olivares. 

Here  the  omission  of  did  obscures  the  meaning.  A 
good  illustration  of  undue  attention  required  by  omis- 
sion is  found  in  what  is  called  "  splitting  particles." 
As,  "  He  heard  of,  and  went  to  see  the  man,"  instead 
of  this:  He  heard   of  the  man  and  went  to  see  him. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  277 

Both  are  grammatically  correct;  but  the  first  requires 
effort  to  hold  the  abstract  relation  till  the  object  is  sup- 
plied. The  greater  the  number  of  words  intervening, 
the  greater  the  effort.  The  omission  of  any  part  of 
speech,  when  necessary  to  give  distinctness  and  promi- 
nence to  the  idea  expressed,  causes  undue  attention  in 
fixing  the  relation  of  the  ideas  expressed. 

The  value  of  this  law  will  appear  in  pointing  out  the 
source  of  undue  effort  in  the  following,  and  in  others 
that  may  be  selected: — 

1.  "  Lovest  thou  me  more  than  these  ?  "  2.  Smith  has  traveled 
more,  but  is  not  so  well  educated  as  his  friend.  3.  He  might 
have  been  happy  and  is  now  fully  convinced  of  it.  4.  Industry 
has  always  been  the  way  to  succeed,  and  it  will  so  long  as  men 
are  what  they  are.  5.  "  He  professes  to  be  helping  the  nation, 
which  is  in  reality  suffering  from  his  flattery,  and  will  not  permit 
any  one  else  to  give  it  advice."  6.  There  is  a  great  difference 
between  the  French  and  English.  7.  Platinum  is  heavier  but  is 
not  so  useful  as  iron.  8.  The  error  has  and  will  again  be  ex- 
ploded. 9.  He  has  worn  to-day  a  silk  and  felt  hat.  10.  "It  bears 
us  back  eighty-two  years,  when  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  were 
turned  toward  France."  n.  "Any  country  can  afford  to  get  rid 
of  its  lawless  and  mischievous  subjects  by  a  small  fare."  21. 
"  With  this  ambition  was  a  will  that,  uncontrolled,  made  him  stub- 
born and  disagreeable."  13.  "Occasions  were  quite  frequent 
when  the  goodness  of  his  heart  and  tender  sympathies  were 
needed."  14.  "  When  we  study  the  character  of  a  man,  we 
naturally  turn  to  his  childhood  for  the  influences  that  have  the 
most  lasting  effects  upon  his  life."  15.  "  All  the  pleasing  illusions 
which  made  power  gentle,  and  obedience  liberal,  harmonized  the 
different  shades  of  life,  and,  by  a  blind  assimilation,  incorporated 
into  politics  the  sentiments  that  beautify  and  soften  private 
society,  are  to  be  dissolved  by  this  new  conquering  empire  of 
light  and  reason." 


2^8  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Unity  in  the  Discourse  Structure.  —  As  soon  as 
the  mind  has  interpreted  two  sentences,  it  organizes 
the  two  thoughts  into  one.  This  new  thought 
combines  with  a  third  into  a  new  product.  Thus 
the  drift  of  thought  is  soon  discerned,  and  the  series 
of  thoughts  begin  to  crystallize  about  the  central 
theme.  The  mind  establishes  a  tentative  theme  at 
the  outset.  As  thoughts  succeed  each  other,  this 
theme  is  modified  and  filled  out  till  one  thought  —  the 
true  theme  —  is  found  in  which  all  the  others  will 
organize.  Thus  the  immediate  work  of  the  imagination 
and  the  judgment  is  to  search  out  the  theme.  If  the 
interpretation  be  made  for  the  sake  of  the  content  of 
the  discourse,  the  process  ends  when  the  theme  is  se- 
cured; but  if  the  purpose  be  to  make  a  critical  estimate, 
another  step  is  required;  namely,  that  of  estimating 
the  workmanship,  the  effectiveness  of  the  discourse, 
in  the  light  of  the  purpose,  the  theme,  and  all  the  other 
determining  factors. 

It  is  obvious  from  the  preceding  examples  that  energy 
of  utterance  is  secured  through  arrangement.  Thought 
which  is  compactly  and  logically  organized,  which  is 
strong  in  its  cohesion  of  parts,  has  power  to  impress 
itself  on  the  recipient's  mind.  This  requires  such 
selection,  method  of  arrangement,  and  completeness  of 
parts  as  to  give  the  theme  obvious  unity. 

It  ought  to  be  observed,  also,  that  as  well  as  obvious 
unity,  the  thought  should  have  obvious  parts;  or, 
rather,  that  in  having  unity  it  will  have  such  parts. 
There  can  be  no  strength  through  unity  without  dis- 
tinct parts  unified.     The  theme  must  be  brought  out 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  279 

in  definite  features.  Nothing  is  weaker  than  a  dead 
level  in  the  succession  of  thoughts.  The  mind  can 
gain  no  foothold  in  monotonous  thought,  and  is 
offended  by  it  as  the  ear  is  by  monotonous  delivery. 
Only  the  highly  articulated  organism  can  have  vivacity 
and  vigor  of  movement.  Ease  of  interpretation  and 
Energy  both  require  that  the  phases  of  the  theme  be 
given  distinct  outline  and  striking  prominence.  The 
most  noticeable  and  the  radical  failure  of  the  young 
composer  is  in  not,  while  holding  his  theme  with  a 
steady  hand,  pressing  on  the  attention  clearly  and  fully 
the  phases  of  the  truth  which  organize  into  his 
subject. 

Strength  through  unity  includes  not  only  strength 
of  organization  in  the  thought  itself,  but  the  organiza- 
tion which  gives  it  definite  and  direct  movement  to 
the  end  sought  —  unity  in  the  purpose.  The  thought 
must  have  a  definite,  progressive  movement  controlled 
by  some  central,  ordering  principle,  —  a  movement 
which  carries  the  mind  along  irresistibly  to  the  issue 
of  the  discourse.  Only  the  one  end  proposed  must  be 
consulted;  and  to  this  the  thought  must  move  in  a 
straight  line.  No  undue  enlargement,  no  attention  to 
unnecessary  details,  no  tarrying  by  the  wayside  to 
gather  flowers  when  the  head  is  to  be  convinced  and 
the  heart  won.  When  the  purpose  is  to  instruct, 
every  temptation  to  indulge  in  the  pleasures  of  taste 
must  be  withstood.  When  the  purpose  is  to  arouse  to 
action,  care  must  be  taken  not  to  elaborate  truth  for 
its  own  sake;  not  to  spin  out  subtile  distinctions;  not 
to  lose  the  aim  in  the  rounding  out  of  logical  processes. 


28o  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Nothing  must  stand  in  the  way  of  the  direct  motives  to 
action.  Everything  must  submit  itself  to  the  purpose 
of  the  speaker;  must  be  held  in  equal  balance  and  just 
proportion  to  that  purpose. 

This  quality  of  strength  through  the  organization  of 
thought  requires  strict  obedience  to  the  laws  of  thought 
in  the  discourse  processes ;  that  is,  the  strength  of 
unity  can  be  secured  only  under  a  definite  purpose  to 
give  the  thought  directness  and  precision,  aided  by 
the  laws  of  selection,  method,  and  completeness  to 
give  such  parts  and  such  arrangement  of  parts  as  will 
give  the  strength  of  unity  to  the  whole.  The  student 
is,  therefore,  already  supplied  with  the  chief  means  of 
securing  Energy  in  the  thought,  and  needs  most  to  be 
referred  to  the  laws  of  the  discourse  processes  for 
specific  guidance. 

i.  The  first  means  which  the  writer  employs  to  aid 
in  realizing  the  theme  is  its  general  statement  in  the 
heading.  There  are  reasons  for  suspending  the  theme 
and  concealing  the  purpose;  but  these  reasons  are  not 
found  in  the  requirement  of  Clearness.  When  the  will 
is  to  be  moved,  it  may  be  necessary  to  conceal  the  real 
intent  and  meaning  until  the  mind  is  opened  to  a  favor- 
able hearing,  and  when  the  feelings  are  to  be  stirred, 
suspense  may  be  necessary  to  arouse  curiosity  and  to 
exhilarate  by  surprise.  But  when  the  purpose  is  to 
instruct,  when  the  only  requirement  is  that  of  Clear- 
ness, the  theme  must  be  stated  at  the  outset.  The  law 
which  requires  the  theme  to  be  stated  at  the  outset  also 
forbids  any  hidden,  fanciful,  or  figurative  expression  of 
it,  so  often  indulged  in  by  young  writers.      The  effort 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  28 1 

should  be  to  state  in  the  heading  of  the  discourse,  as 
nearly  as  possible,  the  exact  idea  which  the  discourse 
is  to  embody. 

2.  The  second  means  to  facilitate  the  interpretation 
of  the  discourse  as  a  whole  is  the  relation  which  the 
sentences  bear  to  each  other.  Unity  in  their  arrange- 
ment is  the  chief  requirement.  As  unity  in  the  sen- 
tence is  required  in  order  to  keep  the  leading  idea 
prominent  before  the  mind,  so  unity  in  the  whole  of 
language  in  the  discourse  is  required  to  hold  it  like- 
wise constantly  before  the  mind.  As  in  the  sentence, 
too,  this  unity  is  primarily  in  the  thought  and  second- 
arily in  the  language  structure.  The  law  of  unity  in 
the  thought  has  already  been  treated  under  the  law  of 
unity  in  the  thought  processes  of  discourse,  and  needs 
no  further  statement  here.  As  to  language  structure, 
there  is  nothing  to  be  added  except  the  means  of  in- 
dicating the  relations  between  sentences. 

a.  How  to  get  from  one  sentence  to  another  so  that 
the  mind  of  the  reader  will  naturally  flow  from  one 
thought  to  another  without  waste  of  effort  is  always 
an  important  question  with  a  writer.  Each  sentence 
must  seem  to  arise  out  of  the  preceding;  each  must 
seem  to  "  ctow  out  of  the  last  and  into  the  next." 
The  life  of  the  composition  is  in  this  vital  juncture  of 
thoughts;  and  the  labor  of  composing  is  scarcely  begun 
when  each  separate  thought  has  found  its  own  state- 
ment. Says  De  Ouincey:  "Every  man  as  he  walks 
through  the  streets  may  contrive  to  jot  down  an  inde- 
pendent thought;  a  short-hand  memorandum  of  a  great 
truth.   .   .  .      Standing  on  one  leg,  you  may  accomplish 


282  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

this.  The  labor  of  composition  begins  when  you  have 
to  put  your  separate  threads  of  thought  into  a  loom;  to 
weave  them  into  a  continuous  whole;  to  connect,  to 
introduce  them;  to  blow  them  out  or  expand  them; 
to  carry  them  to  a  close."  No  rule  can  be  given  for 
this  process  further  than  this:  Each  sentence  must 
express  an  idea  different  from  the  preceding,  and  at 
the  same  time  bear  such  a  close  relation  to  it  as 
naturally  to  arise  from  it.  Frequently  sentences  are 
thrown  in  for  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  making 
an  easy  and  natural  transition  from  one  thought  to 
another. 

b.  Sometimes  the  transition  is  effected  by  repeating 
a  word  or  by  the  use  of  a  conjunction  or  some  other 
phrase  of  reference.  But  these  formal  connectives 
avail  little  unless  there  is  the  inner  connection  men- 
tioned above.  Thoughts  so  ordered  as  to  suggest  in 
themselves  their  connection,  so  that  the  preceding 
directs  the  mind  toward  the  succeeding,  need  no  formal 
introduction.  Whatever  means  the  writer  uses,  he 
should  so  vary  them  and  introduce  them  as  not  to 
betray  the  process.  This  gives  rise  to  what  is  called 
an  "easy  and  flowing  style,"  than  which  nothing  is 
more  effort-saving  or  agreeable  in  ordinary  discourse. 

The  student  will  here  find  profit  in  making  a  study 
of  graceful  transition  as  illustrated  by  some  master  of 
it,  as  Irving  or  Addison. 

c.  The  paragraph  is  a  valuable  aid  in  making  the 
transition  to  a  new  division  or  phase  of  the  theme,  and 
of  indicating  the  connection  of  thoughts  with  the  new 
idea.     The  law  of  unity  which  pertains  to  the  sentence 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  283 

and  to  the  discourse  as  a  whole  controls  the  formation 
of  the  paragraph. 

The  foregoing  has  already  suggested  that  each 
thought  should  be  a  step  forward.  Each  in  rising  out 
of  the  preceding  gives  an  upward  and  an  onward 
movement  to  the  discourse  as  a  whole.  The  whole 
should  be  continuous  and  cumulative,  compact  and 
organic. 

3.  The  theme,  to  be  clearly  apprehended  by  the 
reader  or  auditor,  must  be  held  before  the  mind  long 
enough  to  secure  the  necessary  attention.  The  theme 
must  not  only  be  given  its  distinct  features  and  full 
outline,  as  required  by  the  law  of  completeness  in  the 
thought  processes,  but  it  must  be  variously  turned  to 
the  light,  and  viewed  over  and  over  again  in  new  turns 
of  thought  and  phrase,  in  order  to  gain  the  requisite 
amount  of  activity  on  the  part  of  the  interpreter. 
Perhaps  no  point  of  skill  is  more  essential  to  the  com- 
poser than  that  of  artful  amplification  and  fullness  of 
expression  by  which  the  thought  moves  no  faster  than 
the  interpreter  can  think.  Much  greater  must  be  this 
art  in  oral  than  in  written  speech  ;  for  in  the  latter, 
the  reader  may  review  at  pleasure,  while  in  the  former, 
the  expression  vanishes  with  the  utterance.  Care  is 
needed,  however,  that  fullness  does  not  become  pro- 
lixity. The  speaker,  in  addressing  an  audience  com- 
posed of  people  of  different  grades  of  culture,  finds 
himself  constrained,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the  necessity 
of  full  elaboration  lest  his  thought  be  missed;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  by  the  necessity  of  brevity  lest  prolixity 
defeat  the  purpose  of  his  utterance. 


284  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

4.  The  last  condition  to  economical  interpretation 
of  discourse  is,  that  the  thought  be  embodied  in  lan- 
guage in  obedience  to  the  laws  of  Unity,  Method, 
Selection,  and  Completeness  of  the  thought,  as  already 
considered  under  the  discourse  processes.  These  laws 
were  there  discussed  as  a  means  of  enabling  the  recip- 
ient to  appropriate  the  thought  in  itself  considered, 
without  special  reference  to  the  expression  of  it.  But 
thought  thus  organized  gives  that  form  and  organi- 
zation to  the  language  which  makes  it  the  easiest 
approach  to  the  thought. 

Let  the  expression,  therefore,  be  moulded  by  the 
laws  of  Unity,  Method,  Selection,  and  Completeness, 
as  the  most  fundamental  condition  to  economical 
interpretation. 

THE  INDIRECT  RELATION  OF  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT. 

The  interpretation  of  indirect,  or  figurative,  language 
requires  a  peculiar  act  of  the  mind;  namely,  that  of 
grasping  an  idea  through  indirect  relations.  Through 
this  peculiar  activity  the  qualities  of  Clearness,  Energy, 
and  Elegance  are  most  effectively  secured.  It  is 
through  such  activity  that  the  mind  has  its  deeper 
insights  and  visions  of  whole  truth.  It  is  the  penetra- 
tive act  of  the  mind  which  reaches  the  hidden  mean- 
ing of  things,  as  well  as  the  supreme  organizing  act 
which  finds  the  meaning  of  the  whole  in  each  of  the 
parts. 

Literal  language  is  language  which  has  an  estab- 
lished relation  between  its  form  and  its  content.     Fig- 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  285 

urative  language  is  any  variation  from  this  established 
relation  for  the  purpose  of  effective  utterance.  The 
dictionary  and  the  grammar  treasure  up  current  and 
established  usage;  but  a  writer,  under  the  higher  law 
of  discourse,  removes  the  boundaries  thus  set,  and 
orders  language  to  his  own  peculiar  necessity. 

Hawthorne,   in  describing  Thoreau  to   Longfellow, 
said    that    Thoreau   had   iron-poker-stickisJuicss    in    his 
make  up.     This  is  no  part  of  our  established  language; 
but  it  is  made  out  of  literal  language  forms  to  meet 
the    exigencies    of    Hawthorne's    peculiar    conception. 
Victor  Hugo  says,  "  Pleasing  a  bishop  is  a  foot  in  the 
stirrup  for  a  sub-deaconry."      "Foot   in  the  stirrup" 
here  has  not  the  established  relation  to  its  idea.     The 
dictionary  knows  nothing  of  this  meaning.     The  writer 
puts  this  language  form  in  a  new  relation  —  one  of  his 
own  creating  —  for  the  purpose  of  communicating  more 
effectively  his    idea  of    how   to   gain   a  sub-deaconry. 
The  peculiar  and  original  turns  of    thought    and    the 
necessities  of  utterance  cannot  be  provided  for  in  lan- 
guage beforehand.     The  individual  writer,  in  the  stress 
of   composition,  must  order  to  his  own  necessity  the 
materials  furnished  him  in  the  form  of  literal  language. 
The  greater  the  creative  power  of  the  writer  and  the 
higher  the  tension  of  his  thought,  the  more  will  his 
language  diverge  from  literal  statement. 

A  figure,  since  it  results  from  the  bending  of  literal 
language  into  more  effective  forms  of  utterance,  is  not 
a  mere  ornament,  but  a  necessity.  It  gives  to  an 
otherwise  limited  and  abstract  vocabulary  richness, 
fullness,   and   power.      From  a  few  literal   root   words, 


286  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

through  the  necessity  of  using  them  figuratively  to 
express  shades  of  meaning  for  which  no  form  of  ex- 
pression was  supplied,  our  language  has  grown  to  its 
present  compass  and  flexibility.  While  the  number  of 
ideas  and  thoughts  are  unlimited,  the  language  forms 
are  limited;  and  necessarily  so  by  the  law  of  economy 
in  learning  and  using  language.  How  to  express  the 
infinite  number  of  ideas  and  thoughts  in  all  their 
variety  and  shades  of  meaning  by  means  of  a  compara- 
tively limited  vocabulary  is  the  great  problem  in  lan- 
guage; and  the  effort  to  solve  this  in  practice  has  been 
the  force  that  has  shaped  language  in  every  phase  of 
its  growth.  When  a  literal  word  is  used  in  seventeen 
different  figurative  applications,  as  the  dictionary  shows 
to  have  been  the  case  with  the  word  head,  it  is  equiva- 
lent to  a  seventeen-fold  increase  of  the  vocabulary.  By 
the  frequent  use  of  the  word  in  the  same  figurative  ap- 
plication, its  figurative  meaning  becomes  literal.  Thus 
the  increase  in  the  vocabulary.  Most  words  have  a 
figurative  origin.  All  words  expressing  mental  opera- 
tions were  at  first  figuratively  employed ;  i.e.,  these 
operations  were  expressed  through  their  relation  to 
material  forms  and  processes.  The  gain  is  not  solely 
in  the  increase  of  the  literal  vocabulary,  but  in  the 
wider  extent  of  application  of  the  figurative  words 
themselves,  before  they  become  literal.  The  literal  is 
constantly  encroaching  upon  the  figurative,  but  dis- 
charging its  obligations  to  the  figurative  by  making- 
possible  new  applications  when  the  necessity  arises. 
The  extent  of  the  figurative  application  of  words  is 
much  wider  than   that   of  the  literal.      The  dictionary 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  287 

does  not  exhaust  the  scope  of  language;  the  latent 
force  is  greater  than  that  which  is  manifest.  The 
skillful  writer  shapes  and  fits  the  literal  established 
language  to  suit  his  own  necessity,  limited  only  by  the 
suggestive  resources  of  his  own  mind.  "  The  heavy 
preponderance  of  the  weight  of  language  is  in  the  scale 
of  its  figurative  uses.  Analogies  connect  all  words 
with  all  words.  By  means  of  figurative  speech,  all 
departments  of  thought  illumine  each  other.  Origi- 
nality in  style  appears  chiefly  in  the  discovery  of 
analogies,   and  fitting  them  to  use."  1 

Thus  the  advantage  of  figurative  language  does  not 
wholly  nor  chiefly  lie  in  the  economical  increase  of  the 
vocabulary,  but  in  the  greater  clearness,  elegance,  and 
energy  secured  by  expressing  one  thing  in  the  form  of 
another.  By  this  means,  general  and  abstract  truth 
can  be  expressed  in  vivid,  definite,  concrete  forms. 
Familiar,  beautiful,  and  striking  objects  may  be  used 
as  expressions  of  unfamiliar,  uninteresting,  and  com- 
monplace matter,  thus  contributing  to  effectiveness,  as 
no  literal  and  abstract  word  forms  could  possibly  do. 
This  gain  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  when  the  figurative 
use  of  a  word  becomes  literal  the  word  loses  much  of 
its  expressiveness.  When  the  word  tribulation  ceased 
to  call  up  the  old  Roman  tribulum,  the  threshing  sledge 
which  separated  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  it  lost  both 
in  beauty  of  suggestion  and  in  the  power  to  express 
forcibly  the  truth  that  afflictions  serve  to  separate  the 
evil  and  worthless  from  the  good  and  worthy  in  the 
human  soul. 

J  Phelps'  "  English  Style." 


288  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

As  already  noted,  figurative  language  is  language  in 
which  the  relation  between  the  form  and  the  content 
of  language  is  varied  from  established  usage.  Figure 
signifies  form.  A  new  form  of  language  may  be  made 
to  stand  for  the  same  idea  as  the  established  form;  or 
the  established  form  may  be  used  to  set  forth  some 
idea  other  than  that  to  which  usage  has  fixed  it.  In 
one  case  the  language  form  is  changed;  in  the  other 
the  form  of  conception  associated  with  the  language  is 
changed.  In  either  case  it  is  a  change  of  form,  and 
therefore  figurative.  At  the  same  time  there  is  a 
change  of  relation  between  form  and  content. 

Since  language  has  both  form  and  content  there 
arise  two  kinds  of  figures,  —  figures  of  form  and  figures 
of  content.  A  change  in  the  form  of  the  language 
itself  is  illustrated  by  the  following:  "'ghast";  "  Do- 
the-boys";  "aerial  cities  of  joy  and  affection  and 
freedom."  In  the  first  example,  the  first  part  of  the 
word  is  omitted;  in  the  second,  a  word  is  made  for  a 
special  purpose  out  of  three  others;  in  the  third,  more 
ands  are  used  than  the  grammatical  structure  requires. 
There  is  no  accompanying  change  in  the  conception, 
yet  there  is  increased  power  of  expression. 

But  when  Longfellow  says,  — 

"  And  the  night  shall  be  filled  with  music, 
And  the  cares,  that  infest  the  day, 
Shall  fold  their  tents  like  the  Arabs, 
And  as  silently  steal  away," 

he  changes  the  form  of  the  conception  of  cares,  think- 
ing of  them,  not  as  the  literal  word  would  require, 
but  as  infesting  tribes  of  Arabs,  and  as  imperceptibly 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  289 

passing  away  under  the  charm  of  music  like  the  tribes 
folding  their  tents  and  stealing  away  in  the  darkness. 

The  change  in  the  form  or  in  the  content  gives  rise 
to  the  two  classes  of  figures  known  as  Figures  oj 
Speech  and  Figures  of  Thought. 

So  vital  is  the  relation  of  the  form  to  the  content  of 
language  that  no  sharp  line  of  distinction  can  be  drawn 
between  them.  Many  figures  may  properly  be  put  in 
either  class.  This  explains  the  seeming  confusion  and 
contradictions  in  books  treating  them.  The  varieties 
of  each  are  so  great  that  a  complete  classification  is 
both  impracticable  and  undesirable.  Only  the  leading 
ones  need  be  given ;  enough,  however,  to  explain  their 
nature  and  use,  and  thus  enable  the  student,  as  he 
reads,  to  observe  them  in  their  manifold  variety  and  to 
extend  his  classification  as  far  as  he  may  desire. 

FIGURES    OF    SPEECH. 

A  figure  of  speech  is  indirect  language,  since  the 
figurative  form  expresses  its  idea  through  the  literal 
form  from  which  it  is  made.  These  figures  have  little 
value  as  compared  with  figures  of  thought,  yet  they 
deserve  a  brief  treatment.  Because  formal,  they  must 
not  be  supposed  to  have  no  relation  to  content ;  for  they 
arise  from  the  free  inner  impulse  of  a  mind  breaking 
the  fetters  of  an  established  language  form.  They  are 
not  dead  things,  formed  by  external  chiselling  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  the  rhetorician;  but  instinct  with 
life,  because  struck  off  by  the  impulse  of  the  soul, 
which  they  serve  the  reader  to  interpret. 


29O  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Language  as  form  consists  of  words  and  sentences; 
hence,  there  may  be  a  change  in  the  form  of  the  word 
or  in  the  form  of  the  sentence.  The  first  is  called  a 
Figure  of  Spelling,  or  Etymology ;  the  second,  a  Figure 
of  Syntax. 

Figures  of  Spelling}  -  -  Figures  of  spelling  are  formed 
in  four  ways:  (1)  by  the  omission  of  some  part  of  the 
word  necessary  to  its  correct  spelling;  (2)  by  the  in- 
sertion of  some  unnecessary  part;  (3)  by  the  inten- 
tional misspelling  of  words;  (4)  by  the  combination  of 
words. 

1.  The  first  are  classed  and  named  from  the  part 
omitted. 

Aphaeresis,  the  taking  of  a  letter  or  a  syllable  from 
the  beginning  of  a  word;  as,  'ghast  for  aghast,  'mazed 
for  amazed,  'fore  for  before,  what 's  for  what  is, 
she'll  for  she  will,  you  '11  for  you  will,  I'm  for  I  am, 
I'd  for  I  would,  thou 'rt  for  thou  art,  'Frisco  for  San 
Francisco. 

Syncope,  the  omission  of  a  letter  or  letters  or  a 
syllable  from  the  middle  of  a  word;  as,  e'er  forever, 
don't  for  do  not,  ne'er  for  never,  ev'ry  for  every,  de'il 
for  devil,  sick'd  for  sickened. 

Apocope,  the  omission  of  a  letter  or  syllable  at  the 
end  of  a  word;  as,  yond  for  yonder,  Mexic  for  Mexican, 
morn  for  morning,  suit  for  sultry. 

2.  The  other  figures  of  spelling,  rarely  met  with, 
are  formed   by  prefixing,  inserting,  or  affixing  a  letter 

1  A  large  and  interesting  collection  of  figures  may  be  found  in  Mac- 
beth's  "  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature,"  from  which  some  of  these  ex- 
amples have  been  taken. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  29I 

or  syllable,  called  respectively  Prosthesis,  Epenthesis, 
and  Paragoge. 

2 .  Intentional  Misspelling  is  so  prominently  employed 
in  the  service  of  wit  and  humor  as  to  need  no  illustra- 
tion. Such  tricks  with  words,  however,  do  not  serve 
the  highest  grades  of  wit  and  humor;  and  while  Ameri- 
can humorists  have  distinguished  themselves  in  this 
line,  they,  perhaps,  have  not  done  so  to  their  perma- 
nent credit. 

4.  Combination,  the  forming  of  a  word  out  of  others, 
to  secure  greater  force  or  to  meet  the  emergency  of 
some  new  turn  of  thought,  as  in  Lowell's  "  First  Snow 
Fall,"  "the  good  All-Father."  Some  one  speaks  of 
the  "  How-do-you-do-George-my-boy  "  sort  of  style,  and 
the  "  biggest-river-and-tallest-mountain  "  recipe.  Dick- 
ens calls,  with  multiplied  effect,  Squeers'  seminary 
"Do-the-boys  Hall,"  for  there  the  boys  were  done. 
This  figure  is  frequently  used,  and  contributes  to 
energy  of  expression. 

Figures  of  Syntax.  —  Figures  of  Syntax  are  devia- 
tions from  the  ordinary  construction  of  words  in  sen- 
tences. These  are  formed  in  three  ways:  (i)  by 
omitting  parts  necessary  to  grammatical  structure;  (2) 
by  the  insertion  of  parts  unnecessary  to  grammatical 
structure;  (3)  by  the  substitution  of  one  grammatical 
part  for  another. 

1.  The  first  method  forms  a  very  common  and  im- 
portant figure  called  Ellipsis.  An  Ellipsis  is  the 
omission  of  a  part  necessary  to  complete  the  grammati- 
cal structure,  though  not  necessary  to  the  meaning. 
This   figure  is  characteristic  of  energetic  and  impas- 


292  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

sioned  speech,  and  may  be  classed  as  a  figure  of 
Energy.  By  it  tone  and  vigor  may  be  given  to  other- 
wise clear  but  feeble  expression. 

Expand  the  following  from  Carlyle,  who  uses  this 
figure  freely  and  with  good  effect,  into  the  full  gram- 
matical form,  and  note  the  loss:  — 

"It  is  well  said,  in  every  sense,  that  a  man's  religion  is  the 
chief  fact  with  regard  to  him.  A  man's  or  a  nation  of  men's. 
By  religion  I  do  not  mean  here  the  church  creed  which  he  pro- 
fesses, the  articles  of  faith  which  he  will  sign,  and  in  words  or 
otherwise  assert;  not  this  wholly,  in  many  cases  not  this  at  all." 

Ellipsis  is  more  common  in  poetry  than  in  prose. 
Note  the  omission  of  a  subject  and  two  verbs  in  this, 
from  Whittier:  — 

"  Christ's  love  rebukes  no  home  love,  breaks  no  ties  of  kin  apart; 
Better  heresy  in  doctrine,  than  heresy  of  heart." 

One  special  form  of  the  Ellipsis,  the  omission  of 
connectives,  is  called  Asyndeton;  as  in  these:  — 

1.  "  Must  I  relinquish  it  all,  the  joy,  the  hope,  the  illusion  ?" 
2.  "  Urging  the  suit  of  his  friend,  explaining,  persuading,  expand- 
ing."    3.    "  I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered." 

2.  The  repetition  of  parts  not  necessary  to  the 
grammatical  structure  gives  rise  to  the  figure  called 
Pleonasm. 

Pleonasm  is  a  figure  formed  by  the  use  of  more 
words  than  the  grammatical  expression  of  the  thought 
would  require.  Some  part  already  expressed  is  re- 
expressed  for  the  sake  of  giving  it  greater  prominence. 
It  differs  from  Tautology  in  that  there  is  purpose  in 
the    repetition.      It   contributes   to   Clearness   through 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  293 

emphasis.      The  following  will  illustrate  both  its  nature 
and  its  use :  — 

"  The  Lord  he  is  God."  "  Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort 
me." 

"The  blood  of  our  fathers,  let  it  not  have  been  shed  in  vain; 
the  great  hope  of  posterity,  let  it  not  be  blasted." 

The  following  paragraph  from  Gilmore's  "  Outlines 
of  Rhetoric  "  contains  further  illustrations  with  a  valu- 
able suggestion:  — 

"  For  example,  in  the  sentence,  '  Marshal  your  argu- 
ments as  a  skillful  general  does  his  forces,  so  that  they 
may  mutually  support  each  other,'  I  should  regard  the 
introduction  of  the  word  '  mutually  '  as  a  case  of  justi- 
fiable pleonasm,  since  it  serves  to  clarify  and  enforce 
the  author's  meaning.  Again :  in  the  sentence,  '  His 
anticipations  of  the  future  were  as  gloomy  as  his  recol- 
lections of  the  past,'  I  should  not  strike  out  the 
italicized  words,  since  they  serve  to  make  more  clear 
and  impressive  the  contrast  intended.  I  should,  how- 
ever, strike  out  the  italicized  words  from  the  sentence: 
'  His  anticipations  of  the  future  were  of  the  gloomiest 
nature,'  since  in  the  sentence  they  serve  no  useful 
purpose." 

The  special  form  of  Pleonasm  in  which  a  part  is 
repeated  after  intervening  matter  is  called  Epanalepsis, 
meaning  to  take  up  again ;  as  in  these :  — 

"  He  came  to  the  city,  at  last,  after  long  and  tedious  wander- 
ings —  to  the  city  which  had,  for  years,  been  the  shrine  of  his 
devotions." 

"Health,  virtue,  industry  —  these  are  the  elements  of  happi- 


294  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

"But  the  thing  a  man  does  practically  believe;  the  thing  a 
man  does  practically  lay  to  heart,  and  know  for  certain;  concern- 
ing his  vital  relations  to  this  mysterious  universe,  and  his  duty  and 
destiny  there,  that  in  all  cases  is  the  primary  thing  for  him,  and 
creatively  determines  all  the  rest." 

Another  form  of  the  general  figure  of  Pleonasm  con- 
sists in  the  emphatic  repetition  of  a  word  just  uttered, 
for  the  purpose  of  amplifying  or  emphasizing  the  idea 
expressed.  This  variety  is  called  Epizeuxis,  meaning 
to  fasten  to  or  upon;  thus:  — 

"  Shall  I  attempt  to  describe  Rome  —  Rome,  the  birthplace  of 
all  that  is  beautiful  and  grand?  " 

"Alone,  alone,  all,  all  alone, 
Alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea." 

Polysyndeton,  the  excessive  use  of  connectives,  is  the 
last  pleonastic  figure  to  be  noted.  This  is  the  opposite 
of  Asyndeton.  Both  of  these  are  found  abundant  in 
all  literature.  The  following  Polysyndetons  from  "The 
Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  "  are  neat  illustrations  of 
this  figure:  — 

"  Was  it  for  this  I  have  loved,  and  waited,  and  worshipped  in 
silence  ?  " 

"  Breathing  their  silent  farewells,  as  they  fade  and  wither  and 
perish." 

"  Sacred  and  safe  and  unseen,  in  the  dark  of  the  narrow  cham- 
ber." 

"  Sunless  and  silent  and  deep,  like  subterranean  rivers." 

Both  Asyndeton  and  Polysyndeton  are  beautifully 
illustrated  in  the  following  from  Milton:  — 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  295 

"  So  eagerly  the  fiend, 
O'er  bog  and  steep,  through  strait,  rough,  dense,  or  rare, 
With  head,  hands,  wings,  or  feet,  pursues  the  way, 
And  swims,  or  sinks,  or  wades,  or  creeps,  or  flies." 

3.  The  figure  of  syntax  formed  by  the  third  method 
is  called  Enallage.  It  consists  of  the  use  of  one  part 
of  speech  for  another,  or  of  one  grammatical  property 
for  another.  The  following  examples  will  illustrate  its 
nature : — 

Adverb  for  noun :  — 

"  Full  of  all  the  tender  pathos 
Of  the  Here  and  the  Hereafter. 

Noun  for  verb :  — 

"  I  '11  queen  it  no  inch  farther, 
But  herd  my  ewes  and  weep." 

"To  out  herod  Herod." 

Proper  noun  for  adjective:  — 

"A  Nebuchadnezzar  curse  that  sends  us  to  grass  like  oxen." 

Adjective  for  verb:  — 

"  It  lanks  the  cheek,  and  pales  the  freshest  sight." 

FIGURES    OF    THOUGHT. 

A  figure  of  thought  is  the  expression  of  one  thing 
in  the  form  of  another.  What  is  conveyed  by  the 
language  directly  is  itself  a  means  of  expressing  some- 
thing else.  When  Longfellow  wished  to  express  the 
truth  that  the  hopes  of  youth  are  destroyed  by  the 
trials  and  adversities  of  life,  he  brings  before  the  mind 


296  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

the  image  of  leaves  falling  in  the  blast  of  cold  wind 
and  rain,  and  then  adds:  "The  hopes  of  youth  fall 
thick  in  the  blast."  He  wishes  us  to  see  in  the  leaves 
falling  in  the  blasts  of  cold  wind  and  rain  the  hopes 
of  youth  falling  in  the  adversities  of  life. 

Figures  of  thought  are  not  always  easily  distin- 
guished from  literal  expression.  We  have  seen  that 
much  of  our  literal  language  has  grown  out  of  figura- 
tive language,  and  the  process  is  still  going  on.  When 
an  expression  is  in  the  phase  of  transition  it  is  not 
clear  whether  it  is  a  real  or  a  faded  figure.  But  the 
test  is  always  the  same :  Is  one  thing  seen  in  the  form 
of  another  ?  An  expression  ceases  to  be  figurative  the 
moment  it  fails  to  call  up  the  image  through  which  the 
thought  to  be  expressed  was  at  first  figuratively  seen. 
For  instance,  in  the  expression  "  The  truth  is  obvi- 
ous," we  no  longer  bring  up  the  image  of  an  obstacle, 
as  a  tree  across  the  road  {ob,  against,  or  in  front ;  and 
via,  a  road  or  way).  That  is,  the  truth  need  not  be 
sought,  but  lies  so  directly  in  the  path  that  one  cannot 
help  running  against  it.  In  every  figure  of  thought  an 
idea  is  contemplated  through  its  image,  —  an  image 
which  presents  the  idea  under  consideration  more 
effectively,  more  clearly,  elegantly,  or  energetically 
than  is  possible  through  direct  language.  With  a 
figurative  writer  an  idea  springs  forth  with  its  image, 
which  wings  the  idea  for  its  destination. 

Let  the  following  be  tested  as  to  whether  they  are 
figurative  or  literal:  — 

1.  His  fortune  is  dilapidated.  2.  The  objection  is  instiperable. 
3.  The  king  obliterated  the  memory  of  the  wrong.    4.  The  student 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  2Q7 

overcame  all  impediments  to  scholarship.  5.  The  merchant  has 
gone  into  bankruptcy.  6.  A  rupture  of  the  friendly  relations 
between  England  and  America  is  feared.  7.  This  exercise  is 
superfluous.  8.  The  people  congregated  for  worship.  9.  Thor- 
ough mastery  of  this  point  will  expedite  our  future  study.  10.  He 
is  the  candidate  for  the  office  of  governor.  11.  She  was  aston- 
ished Tat  the  news.  12.-  He  is  a  desultory  reader.  13.  The  kettle 
boils.  14.  He  has  read  Homer  and  Virgil.  15.  The  harbor  is 
crowded  with  masts.  16.  The  skies  are  painted  with  unnumbered 
sparks.  17.  Their  ranks  are  breaking  like  clouds  before  a  Biscay 
gale. 

18.     "  Build  thee  more  stately  mansions,  O  my  soul, 

As  the  swift  seasons  roll. 

Leave  thy  low  vaulted  past, 
Let  each  temple,  nobler  than  the  last, 
Shut  thee  from  heaven  with  a  dome  more  vast, 

Till  thou  at  length  art  free, 
Leaving  thine  outgrown  shell  by  life's  unresting  sea." 

While  in  every  figure  two  objects  of  thought  are 
brought  into  the  same  conception,  this  fact  alone  does 
not  make  the  thought  figurative.  The  thought  becomes 
figurative  only  when  the  imagination  presents  a  relation 
between  the  two  objects  which  the  literal  judgment  con- 
tradicts. The  imagination  substitutes  its  own  relations 
for  the  relations  of  the  understanding.  In  the  state- 
ment "The  kettle  boils,"  we  have  the  two  objects,  ket- 
tle and  water,  the  former  suggesting  the  latter.  The 
judgment  pronounces  this  statement  untrue --that  the 
kettle  does  not  boil;  whereupon  water  is  suggested  and 
the  judgment  satisfied  and  the  truth  maintained.  The 
imagination  presents  us  with  "  The  morning  of  life"; 
but  the  judgment  says  that  life  has  no  morning;  this 
belongs  only  to  the  day.      "The  buttercup  catches  the 


298  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

sun  in  his  chalice."  The  judgment  is  startled  at  such 
announcement,  and  goes  into  a  dissertation  on  the 
absorption  of  certain  rays  of  light  and  the  reflection  of 
others.  But  the  imagination  is  delighted  with  the  beau- 
tiful truth  discerned  in  this  action  of  the  buttercup. 
The  imagination  declares  that  "  His  hands  dangled  a 
mile  out  of  his  sleeves";  whereupon  the  judgment  is 
astonished  at  this  bold  disregard  for  truth.  Note  how, 
in  the  foregoing  stanza  from  the  "  Chambered  Nauti- 
lus," the  imagination  assumes  relations  which  lie  outside 
those  of  the  understanding.  There  is  no  antagonism 
in  this,  no  opposition  of  truths;  for  the  imaginative 
relation  is  simply  a  higher  order  of  truth,  and  the  judg- 
ment must  yield  supremacy  when  it  comes  to  the  limit 
of  its  own  territory. 

Thus  a  figure  of  thought  is  produced  by  the  imagina- 
tion substituting  objects  out  of  the  logical  relations  of 
the  judgment.  Figures  must,  therefore,  divide  them- 
selves on  the  basis  of  the  relation  which  the  object  pre- 
sented by  the  imagination  bears  to  the  object  held  by 
the  judgment.  These  relations  are  those  of  association, 
of  comparison,  and  of  contrast,  giving  rise  to  three  classes 
of  figures  of  the  same  name.  To  express  an  idea  more 
effectively  the  imagination  substitutes,  against  the  truth 
required  by  the  judgment,  some  more  easily  grasped  or 
striking  object  which  customarily  forms  a  part  of  the 
same  mental  state  with  the  object  to  be  expressed. 
Such  association  is  the  ground  on  which  the  substitu- 
tion is  permitted,  the  purpose  of  it  being  more  effective 
expression.  Or,  the  imagination  substitutes  an  object 
bearing  an   imagined   resemblance,  against  the   logical 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  299 

differences,  to  the  object  to  be  expressed,  the  judgment 
admitting  the  resemblance  when  the  imagination  points 
it  out.     This  resemblance  is  the  ground  of  the  substi- 
tution, the  purpose  again  being  to  present  more  clearly 
or    more    strongly    the    primary    object    of    attention. 
Again,  the  imagination  substitutes  for  the  object  to  be 
expressed  an  object  as  if  in  unity  with  it,  which  the 
judgment  holds  to  be  in  utter  opposition.     In  the  pre- 
ceding, the  judgment  had  not  opposed  the  objects,  had 
simply  not  noted  their  resemblance  in  the  ordinary  log- 
ical movement  of  thought,  but  sanctions  it  as  soon  as 
the  imagination  brings  it  to  light.      The  most   strained 
substitution  and  the  boldest  effort  of  the  imagination 
is  that  in  which  the  objects  having  irreconcilable  differ- 
ences are  conceived  as  in  unity,  one  being  substituted 
for  the  other.     This  contrast,  however,  is  the  ground 
of  the  substitution,  while  the  purpose  is  to  charge  the 
language  with  more   power    than    accompanies    literal 
speech.     The  ascending  order  of  activity  on  the  part  of 
the  imagination  in  making  the  foregoing  substitutions 
is    obvious.     And    this    falls    in    fairly  well  with    the 
ascending    order    of    figures    as    to    purpose -- figures 
promoting  clearness,  elegance,  and  energy;  the  highest 
effort  of  the  imagination  producing  energy,  while  the 
lowest,    least   diverging  from   the   judgment,   securing 
clearness. 

Figures  of  Association. 

A  figure  of  association  is  a  figure  of  thought  in  which 
one  idea  is  put  in  the  form  of  another  which  is  asso- 
ciated with  it  as  a  part  of  the  same  mental   state.      A 


300  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

figure  of  association  is  based  on  the  law  of  association 
of  ideas  under  their  logical  relations.  When  two  ideas 
have  been  associated  in  the  mind  as  purpose  and  means, 
substance  and  attribute,  whole  and  part,  in  time  and 
place,  and  as  cause  and  effect,  one  of  them,  when  men- 
tioned, will  suggest  the  other.  When  one  says,  "  A 
sail  ahead,"  the  idea  sail  calls  up  the  idea  ship,  because 
the  mind  is  accustomed  to  associate  the  sail  with  the 
ship.  "The  palace  should  not  spurn  the  cottage."  In 
this  the  idea  palace  brings  to  mind  the  wealthy  people 
who  are  commonly  associated  in  the  mind  with  palaces; 
the  idea  cottage,  for  the  same  reason,  recalls  the  poor 
who  inhabit  them.  When  we  say  that  he  is  a  slave  to 
the  cup,  the  contents  of  the  cup  is  readily  supplied; 
and  "The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword  "  readily  sug- 
gests intelligence,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  physical 
force  of  armies,  on  the  other.  In  each  case  the  imagi- 
nation presents,  against  truth  relations,  the  more  defi- 
nite, conspicuous,  and  impressive  object,  trusting  the 
judgment  to  perceive  the  real  intent  through  the  sub- 
stitution of  the  real  object  in  thought. 

For  practical  purposes,  the  relations  under  which 
objects  are  associated  may  be  grouped  into  two: 
internal  relations  and  relations  of  external  accompani- 
ment. The  first  gives  rise  to  the  figure  named 
Synecdoche;  the  second  to  the  figure  named  Metonymy. 

Synecdoche.  -  -This  is  a  figure  of  association  in  which 
something  more  or  something  less  is  directly  expressed 
than  is  intended  to  be  conveyed.  A  Synecdoche  ex- 
presses figuratively  what  differs  "from  the  original 
meaning  of   the   word    in    degree,     and    not   in  kind." 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  3<DI 

This  figure  is  based  on  the  inner  relations  which  con- 
stitute the  object;  namely,  whole  and  part,  and  sub- 
stance and  attribute. 

Most  Synecdoches  are  based  on  the  relation  of  whole 
and  part,  and  usually  the  part  is  named  to  suggest  the 
whole;  as,  A  sail  ahead!  conveying  the  idea  of  a  ship 
by  the  use  of  one  of  its  parts.  In  this  case  there  is 
given  a  part  of  an  individual;  sometimes  an  individual 
is  named  instead  of  a  class;  as,  "A  Daniel,  a  second 
Daniel  come  to  judgment!  "  conveying  the  idea  of  the 
class  of  wise  interpreters  of  the  law.  Also,  the  species 
may  be  given  for  the  genera;  as,  "Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread,"  that  is,  food.  By  naming  apart  for  the 
whole,  there  is  secured  the  gain  that  belongs  to  all 
concrete  and  specific  expression.  When  it  is  said  that 
the  redcoats  are  fleeing,  the  expression  is  specific  and 
striking,  and  the  object  more  easily  pictured  than  if  it 
were  said  that  the  soldiers  are  fleeing.  The  part 
named  may  also  be  more  suggestive  from  some  relation 
it  has  to  the  end  in  view;  as,  All  hands  to  the  pump.  - 
She  gave  her  heart  and  hand.  -  -  "  How  beautiful  upon 
the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth  good 
tidings!  " 

Sometimes  the  whole  is  named  to  suggest  the  part; 
but  this  is  a  rare  figure,  being  contrary  to  the  principle 
of  economy  of  attention,  which  requires  the  concrete 
and  specific  rather  than  the  abstract  and  the  general. 
It  sometimes  happens,  however,  that  the  mention  of  the 
whole  gives  emphasis  to  the  part;  as,  "the  Roman 
world  "  impresses  the  mind  with  its  vastness  and  im- 
portance more  than  to  say  the  Roman   Empire.     The 


302  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

whole  is  used  for  the  part  with  good  effect  when  the 
purpose  is  to  soften  the  expression;  as,  He  has  departed 
this  life;  for,  He  died.  —  He  has  closed  up  business;  for, 
He  has  gone  into  bankruptcy.  Softening  of  expression 
is  called  Euphemism. 

The  attribute  is  sometimes  used  to  suggest  the  sub- 
ject of  the  attribute,  as  youth  and  beauty,  for  the 
young  and  beautiful.  What  is  classed  as  giving 
"  the  material  for  the  object  '  comes  under  this  head; 
as,  He  bartered  his  soul  for  gold.  —  He  killed  him  with 
murderous  steel.  Here,  naming  the  material  sug- 
gests the  striking  attributes,  —  in  the  one  that  which 
pleases  the  eye;  in  the  other,  that  which  adapts  the 
instrument  to  its  deadly  work.  The  subject  of  the 
attribute  may  be  given  to  suggest  the  attribute;  as, 
There  might  have  been  seen  the  fox  in  his  conduct. 

Putting  the  definite  number  for  an  indefinite  comes 
under  this  figure;  as,  "Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over 
thee  in  vain." 

Let  the  following  Synecdoches  be  explained  and 
classed  as  to  the  kind  of  association  involved:  — 

i.  They  saw  the  city  of  spires.  2.  The  skein  fell  from  her  sick 
hand.  3.  '•  (live  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  4.  They  cut  the 
solid  whiteness  through.  5.  Flesh  and  blood  hath  not  revealed 
it  unto  thee.  6.  Unfurl  the  stars  and  stripes.  7.  The  Vandals 
overran  the  Roman  world.  8.  The  tired  fingers  toiled  on.  9. 
He  was  a  man  of  influence  in  his  day.  10.  He  barters  his  soul 
for  gold.  11.  "They  that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the 
sword."      12.    The  steel  (the  sword)  glittered  in  the  air. 

Metonymy.-  -This  is  a  figure  of  association  in  which 
an  object  is  suggested  by  naming  some  object  or  attri- 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  303 

bute  externally  associated  with  it.  Hence,  the  use  of 
the  word  Metonymy,  meaning  a  change  of  name.  Un- 
like Synecdoche,  Metonymy  directly  expresses  some- 
thing different  from  its  real  meaning.  The  sail  is  not  a 
different  object  from  the  ship,  but  a  part  of  it;  while 
in  this,  "  The  hotel  sets  a  good  table,"  the  word 
table  expresses  something  entirely  different  from  the 
food  on  the  table.  These  two  figures,  however,  are 
fundamentally  alike,  each  being  based  on  the  same  law 
of  association  of  ideas.  The  table  recalls  the  food 
upon  it  for  the  same  reason  that  the  sail  recalls  the 
ship.  Both,  too,  have  the  same  value  to  style,  in  that 
each  names  some  accessory  idea  which  recalls  the 
principal  idea  more  clearly  or  more  forcibly  than  its 
direct  naming  would  do. 

There  are  different  kinds  of  Metonymies,  as  deter- 
mined by  the  different  laws  of  association:  — 

1.  Relation  of  purpose  and  means;  as,  The  ballot 
governs  the  country.  —  "  The  pen  is  mightier  than  the 
sword." 

2.  Relation  of  cause  and  effect;  as,  Gray  hairs 
should  be  respected.  —  Mr.  Snyder  is  a  student  of 
Shakespeare. 

3.  Relation  of  place;  as,  The  palace  should  not  scorn 
the  cottage. 

4.  Relation  in  time;  as,  "Remember  March,  the 
ides  of  March." 

Point  out  the  Metonymy  in  each  of  the  following, 
and  state  the  relation  on  which  it  is  based :  - 

1.  His  wit  set  the  table  in  a  roar.  2.  We  have  prostrated  our- 
selves before  the  throne.     3.    Strike  for  your  altars  and  your  hres. 


3O4  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

4.  Who  steals  my  purse  steals  trash.  5.  Too  much  red  tape  does 
not  expedite  business.  6.  He  is  a  slave  to  the  bottle.  7.  In  the 
sweat  of  thy  brow  shalt  thou  eat  thy  bread. 

8.  "  We  plant  upon  the  sunny  lea, 

A  shadow  for  the  noontide  hour, 
A  shelter  from  the  summer  shower, 
When  we  plant  the  apple  tree." 

9.  "  The  snow  had  begun  in  the  gloaming, 

And  busily  all  the  night 
Had  been  heaping  field  and  highway 
With  a  silence  deep  and  white." 

10.  "  Girls,  whose  young  eyes  o'erflow  with  mirth, 

Shall  peel  its  fruit  by  cottage  hearth." 


Figures  of  Comparison. 

A  figure  of  comparison  is  a  figure  of  thought  in 
which  the  imagination  brings  to  view  some  resemblance 
between  the  primary  and  the  secondary  object,  which 
does  not  fall  under  the  categorical  relations  of  the  judg- 
ment. By  this  means  the  writer  throws  the  unfamiliar, 
the  abstract,  and  the  inner  things  of  spirit  into  the 
form  of  the  concrete  individual.  He  is  thus  permitted 
to  speak  in  the  language  of  the  sensuous  imagination, 
and  thereby  to  give  definiteness  and  to  illuminate  what 
would  otherwise  be  dim,  vague,  and  unfamiliar  to  the 
understanding.  And  of  more  importance  still,  a  figure 
of  comparison  serves  to  give  to  an  object  some  quality 
which  it  has  not  by  nature,  and  thus  elevates  or  de- 
grades it. 

Figures  of  comparison  are  based  ultimately  on  the 
fact  that  there  is  a  fundamental  quality  common  to  all 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  305 

objects.  "  All  are  manifestations  of  one  force."  The 
imagination  penetrates  objects  and  brings  to  view  their 
inner  nature.  Figures  of  comparison  arise  from  the 
exercise  of  the  imagination  as  it  interprets  the  inner 
identity  of  things;  as  it  perceives  the  spiritual  truth  of 
which  physical  facts  are  symbols.  Hence,  they  are 
profoundly  significant,  bringing  to  view  the  very  life 
and  being  of  common  material  things,  or  clothing  ideal 
qualities  of  spirit  in  pleasing  forms  of  beauty. 

Figures  of  comparison  differ  from  those  of  asso- 
ciation in  two  essential  particulars:  (i)  in  figures  of 
association  there  is  no  illustrative  power  or  transfer- 
ence of  qualities,  as  in  the  others;  (2)  the  imagination 
required  to  construct  of  interpret  them  is  the  literal, 
picturing  imagination;  while  in  figures  of  comparison 
it  is  the  poetic,  the  intuitive  imagination.  In  figures  of 
association  one  idea  suggests  another  because  the  two 
have  been  previously  associated  in  consciousness;  in 
figures  of  comparison  one  object  suggests  another 
by  some  resemblance,  subtile  and  new  to  the  mind  dis- 
cerning it.  Figures  of  comparison  express  ideal  rela- 
tions, ■ — relations  which  the  mind  creates  for  itself  and 
which  can  be  found  in  the  mind  only;  while  figures  of 
association  express  real  relations;  that  is,  relations 
which  are  felt  to  be  in  the  external  object,  the  actual 
relations,  as  substance  and  attribute,  time  and  space, 
whole  and  part,  cause  and  effect,  and  purpose  and 
means. 

Figurative  comparison  is  not  always  easily  discrimi- 
nated from  literal  comparison.  Literal  comparison, 
which  occupies  so  prominent  a  place  in  the  presenta- 


306  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

tion  of  thought,  is  between  objects  which  are  essen- 
tially alike,  and   in   respect   to  such   points  as  logical 
analysis  can  present ;    while    figurative   comparison  is 
between  objects  which  are  essentially  unlike,  except  in 
respect  to  what  the  penetrative  imagination  alone  can 
find.      In  figurative  comparison  there  must  be  an  actual 
likeness,  which  the  mind    does  not   ordinarily  detect, 
because  of  the  prominent  and  essential  unlikeness  of 
the  objects  compared, — a  likeness   which    cannot  be 
found  by  any  amount  of  analysis  by  the  judgment,  and 
which  only  the  intuitive   imagination    can   feel.     The 
terms  in  figurative  comparison  lie  in  different  worlds 
—  the  spiritual  and  the  material ;  hence  their  absorb- 
ing   difference  and    their    hidden    resemblance.       But 
there  must  be  some  point  of  identity  between  them, 
else  the  spiritual  could  not  be  presented  in  terms  of 
the  material.     To  explain  a  figure  is  to  put  the  finger 
on  the  point  of  identity  between  what  seems  contrasted 
terms.      All  figures  of  comparison,  like  all  processes  in 
mathematics,  are  based  on  the  fact  that  one  thing  is 
identical,  at  some  point,  with  another.     When   Long- 
fellow speaks  of  his  thoughts  clinging  to  the  moulder- 
ing past  as  the  vine  to  the  mouldering  wall,  he  must 
have  discerned  that  clinging  is  identical  with  clinging. 
And  when  he  says  that  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in 
the  blast,  having  already  suggested   the  falling  leaves 
in  the  blasts  of  wind  and  rain,  one  readily,  by  simplify- 
ing the  equation,  discerns  that  falling  in  blasts  equals 
falling  in  blasts.      Leaves  and  hopes  are  conspicuously 
different,  —  different    in  color,   form,   size,   parts,   use, 
structure,  etc.;  so  different  that  the  mind  in  its  regular 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  307 

movement  of  logical  thought  does  not  discern  the  point 
of  identity. 

By  the  foregoing  suggestions,  which  of  the  following 
are  figurative?  In  which  case  do  the  objects  com- 
pared belong  to  different  worlds?  Point  out  the 
conspicuous  differences  between  the  objects  in  the 
figurative  expressions,  and  then  state  precisely  the  point 
of  identity:  — 

1.  The  steamer  sweeps  along  like  a  lightning  train.  2.  The 
snowbird  comes  whirling  down  like  a  leaf.  3.  "His  russet  beard 
was  already  flecked  with  patches  of  snow,  as  hedges  sometimes  in 
November."  4.  "  This  he  said  with  a  smile,  that  danced  in  his 
eyes,  as  the  sunbeams  dance  on  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  vanish 
again  in  a  moment."  5.  The  lion  fights  like  the  tiger.  6.  The 
man  fights  like  a  tiger.  7.  His  airy  fancy  flits  about,  like  a  hum- 
ming bird  from  flower  to  flower.  8.  The  humming  bird  hums 
like  a  spinning  top.  9.  The  eagle  soars  aloft  till  he  looks  like  a 
speck  in  the  sky.  10.  The  imagination,  as  the  eagle,  soars  aloft 
to  dizzy  heights.  11.  "Pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread;  you 
seize  the  flower,  the  bloom  is  shed."  12.  The  bare  feet  of  the 
boy  must  soon  be  "hid  in  the  prison  cells  of  pride."  13.  The 
anchor  of  the  vessel  is  a  thought  controlling  the  vessel's  move- 
ment.    14.    Man's  life  is  a  rainy  day. 

On  the  basis  of  explicitness,  figurative  comparisons 
are  divided  into  Expressed  Comparison  and  Implied 
Comparison,  with  subdivisions  under  the  second. 

Expressed  Comparison.  —  The  expressed  comparison 
is  called  a  Simi/e,  from  simi/is,  like.  This  figure  is 
peculiar  in  that  the  ideas  compared  and  the  comparison 
are  all  expressed.  The  word  like  is  generally  used  to 
denote  the  comparison  ;  but  the  words  as,  so,  just  as, 
similar  to,  and  other  expressions  of  comparison  may  be 


308  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

used.  Sometimes  the  word  expressing  the  comparison 
is  understood.  The  finding  of  these  words  of  compari- 
son is  no  assurance  that  the  expression  is  figurative. 

The  Simile  serves  chiefly  to  illustrate  truth  to  the 
intellect  or  to  please  the  emotions  by  transferring  from 
one  object  to  another  some  quality  more  pleasing  than 
naturally  belongs  to  the  object  under  discussion.  They 
may  be  enlisted  in  the  service  of  all  the  esthetic  emo- 
tions—  wit,  humor,  beauty,  and  sublimity.  While  less 
energetic  than  implied  comparisons,  they,  because  ex- 
pressing the  resemblance  more  fully,  may  be  used  to 
express  resemblance  which  would  be  obscure  in  the 
other  forms. 

To  explain  a  Simile  is  to  point  out  the  identity 
between  the  objects  compared,  and  then  to  show  how 
the  identity  is  expressed.  So  explain  the  following, 
and  then  change  each  figure  to  literal  language  and 
note  the  gain  in  the  ease  of  interpretation:  — 

1.  "  He  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of  waters." 

2.  "  Their  lives  glide  on  like  rivers  that  water  the  woodland." 

3.  "  It  (mercy)  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  Heaven  upon 
the  place  beneath." 

4.  "  The  Kingdom  of  God  is  like  a  grain  of  mustard  seed." 

5.  "  With  oaken  brace  and  copper  band, 

Lay  the  rudder  on  the  sand, 

That  like  a  thought,  should  have  control, 

Over  the  movement  of  the  whole." 

6.  "  And  a  whooping  billow  swept  the  crew 

Like  icicles  from  her  deck." 

7.  "  How  far  that  little  candle  throws  his  beams  : 

So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world." 

8.  "  For  there  are  moments  in  life  when  the  heart  is  so  full  of 

emotion. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  309 

That  if  it  by  chance  be  shaken,  or  into  its  depths,  like  a 

pebble, 
Drops  some  careless  word,  it  overflows,  and  its  secret 
Spilt  on  the  ground  like  water,  can  never  be  gathered  to- 
gether." 
9.    "  And  my  ear  with  the  music  impregnated  may  be, 
Like  the  poor  exiled  shell  with  the  soul  of  the  sea." 

10.  "As  seeds  lie  dormant  in  the  earth  for  hundreds  of  years, 
and  then  when  brought  to  the  influence  of  air  and  light,  exhibit 
their  vitality,  so  the  germ  of  the  soul  may  lie  concealed  and  un- 
developed during  the  whole  term  of  human  life." 

Implied  Comparisons.  — ■  In  implied  comparisons  the 
resemblance  is  never  expressed,  and  often  one  term  of 
the  comparison  is  omitted.  They  vary  as  to  the  degree 
of  implication,  and  on  this  basis  fall  into  two  classes; 
namely,  the  Metaphor  and  the  Allegory,  with  varieties 
under  each. 

Metaphor. — This  figure,  instead  of  expressing  a 
resemblance,  asserts  or  assumes  an  identity;  thus: 
"Judah  is  a  lion's  whelp."  "A  cloud  of  sorrow  dark- 
ened his  face."  Every  Metaphor  may  be  expanded 
into  a  Simile.  Judah  is  like  a  lion's  whelp.  Sorrows, 
like  a  cloud,  darkened  his  face.  It  would  thus  seem 
that  the  only  distinction  between  the  Metaphor  and 
Simile  lies  in  the  form.  But  this  distinction  in  form 
arises  from  a  distinction  under  the  form.  The  Meta- 
phor arises  from  a  greater  degree  of  animation  and  a 
bolder  effort  of  the  imagination.  It  thus  becomes  not 
only  shorter,  but  stronger,  flashing  the  thought  upon 
the  mind.  The  Metaphor  ventures  to  exaggerate  the 
resemblance,  as  the  more  cautious  Simile  would  give 
it,    into    total    identity.     The    exaggeration    does    not 


310  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

deceive,  for  it  is  understood  that  only  resemblances 
are  meant ;  but  it  excites  the  mind  to  a  more  vivid 
realization.  The  reason  for  the  greater  force  of  the 
Metaphor  over  the  Simile  is  explained  by  A.  S.  Hill  in 
the  following:  — 

"  According  to  Dr.  Whately,  who  adopts  the  idea 
from  Aristotle,  the  superiority  of  the  Metaphor  is 
ascribable  to  the  fact  that  '  all  men  are  more  gratified 
at  catching  the  resemblance  for  themselves  than  at 
having  it  pointed  out  to  them';  according  to  Herbert 
Spencer,  '  the  greater  economy  it  achieves  would  seem 
to  be  the  probable  cause  '  ;  but  neither  explanation  is 
altogether  satisfactory.  On  the  one  hand,  the  Meta- 
phor, though  shorter  than  the  Simile,  usually  makes 
the  mind  do  more  work;  on  the  other  hand,  the  mind 
is  rendered  more  able  to  work,  —  not,  however,  because 
it  is  gratified,  but  because  it  is  stimulated  to  exertion." 

The  Metaphor,  because  of  its  stimulating  power,  is 
classed  as  a  figure  of  Energy.  Yet  it  contributes 
largely  to  Clearness,  and  is  more  often  elegant  than 
the  Simile.  No  other  figure  is  so  common  or  con- 
tributes so  much  to  effective  expression.  The  Meta- 
phor, real  or  faded,  is  met  with  in  almost  every 
sentence  that  drops  from  tongue  or  pen.  This  figure 
more  than  any  other  has  increased  the  power  and 
scope  of  language;  and  this  it  has  done  by  multiplying 
meanings  without  increasing  words.  Language  has 
been  designated  by  Richter  "a  dictionary  of  faded 
metaphors." 

In  some  Metaphors  the  identity  is  asserted,  in  others 
assumed.     Macbeth  applies  the  name  Metaphor  to  the 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  3 1  I 

first  only,  reserving  the  second  for  a  distinct  class, 
which  he  names  Implication.  "The  metaphor,"  he 
says,  "  lies  wholly  in  the  copula  or  verb,  which  asserts 
something  of  the  subject  that  is  not  literally  proper  to 
the  nature  of  that  subject."  He  defines  Implication  as 
an  implied  Metaphor  or  an  implied  Simile,  giving  these 
examples :  — 

"  No  palm  grove  islanded  amid  the  waste." 

"  Rising  above  the  deluge  of  years,"  in  speaking  of  Persepolis. 

"  The  vales  are  surging  with  the  grain." 

There  is  certainly  a  clear  distinction  here,  these  be- 
ing briefer  and  less  explicit  than  the  preceding.  The 
term  Metaphor,  however,  is  usually  applied  to  both; 
and  this  seems  justifiable,  since  the  objects  compared 
are  always  viewed  as  identical.  I  think  there  is  not  a 
resemblance  assumed  ever,  but  an  identity,  making  the 
Implication,  at  most,  always  an  implied  Metaphor. 

From  the  nature  of  the  Metaphor  it  is  easy,  when 
more  than  one  figurative  conception  is  given  of  the 
object  under  discussion,  to  confuse  the  mind  by  con- 
tradictory representative  images.  Such  a  confusion  of 
figures  is  called  a  mixed  Metaphor,  and  is  one  of  the 
most  common  faults  of  a  loose  and  careless  speaker. 
Says  Genung:  "It  arises  from  giving  too  little  atten- 
tion to  the  successive  images  that  crowd  upon  the 
brain,  and  is  avoided  by  simply  surrendering  one's 
thoughts  to  the  picture  suggested  until  it  is  wrought 
out  as  far  as  needed."  The  following  examples  illustrate 
this  error: — 

1.  "He  is  swamped  in  the  meshes  of  his  argument." 

2.  "  His  bosom  was  swollen  with  the  flame  of  patriotism." 


312  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

3.  "  The  discord  will  burst  forth  into  a  conflagration  which  will 
deluge  the  sea  of  politics  with  an  earthquake  of  heresies." 

4.  "  Virtue  alone  can  save  us  from  the  hosts  of  evil  when  they 
roll  in  upon  us." 

5.  "  He  alone  can  manage  the  storm-tossed  ship  of  state  on  its 
march." 

Addison's  rule  for  testing  Metaphors  will  be  found 
serviceable:  "Try  and  form  a  picture  of  them."  "If 
the  parts,"  says  Macbeth,  "when  pictured  out  by  a 
painter,  be  incongruous,  put  your  Metaphor  in  the  fire, 
lest  there  should  stand  before  you  a  goddess,  horse,  and 
ship,  all  in  one." 

The  mixing  of  literal  and  figurative  language  pro- 
duces the  same  confusion  as  the  mixing  of  metaphors, 
and  sometimes  a  ludicrous  descent  from  the  elevated  to 
the  mean,  called  Bathos.  These  three  examples  used 
by  De  Mille  will  illustrate  the  nature  of  this  error:  — 

1.  "The  fiend  Intemperance  is  marshaling  his  hosts,  so  as  to 
poison  the  minds  and  bodies  of  poor  inebriates." 

2.  "  Sailing  on  the  sea  of  life,  we  are  often  in  danger  from  the 
temptations  around  us." 

3.  "  If  we  put  on  the  whole  armor  of  righteousness,  we  shall  be 
less  likely  to  yield  to  the  allurements  of  sin." 

In  "  i  "  the  image  of  an  armed  body  of  men  is  inter- 
mingled with  the  literal  effect  of  poison  —  an  effect  the 
mind  did  not  expect  from  marshaling  hosts.  In  "2  " 
literal  temptations  are  not  the  clangers  which  a  mind 
occupied  by  the  image  of  a  voyage  would  expect.  In 
"  3  "  the  image  of  an  armed  man  is  confused  with  lit- 
eral allurements  --  confused  because  allurements  are 
not  expected  to  be  met  with  arms.     Here,  as  in  the 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  3  I  3 

mixed  Metaphor,  the  law  which  requires  unity  of 
impression  is  violated;  and,  as  a  result,  the  mind  is 
interrupted  and  its  energies  diverted  in  the  process  of 
interpretation. 

Let  the  following  Metaphors  be  expanded  into  Simi- 
les, and  then  explained  as  were  Similes.  Test  each  as 
to  the  unity  of  impression,  the  gain  over  literal  expres- 
sion, and  over  the  corresponding  Simile:  — 

1.  "  The  clouds  of  adversity  soon  pass  away." 

2.  "  Choate  was  one  of  the  brightest  luminaries  of  the  age." 

3.  "  All  too  soon  these  feet  must  hide 

In  the  prison  cells  of  pride." 

4.  "  All  hearts  confess  the  saints  elect 

Who,  twain  in  faith,  in  love  agree, 
And  melt  not  in  an  acid  sect 
The  Christian  pearl  of  charity." 

5.  "  For  gentleness  and  love  and  trust 

Prevail  o'er  angry  wave  and  gust; 
And  in  the  wreck  of  noble  lives 
Something  immortal  still  survives." 

6.  "  Thus  did   that  poor  soul  wander  in  want  and  cheerless 

discomfort, 
Bleeding,    barefooted,    over    the    shards    and    thorns    of 
existence." 

7.  "  They  (my  observations)  have  convinced  me  that,  however 
the  surface  of  character  may  be  chilled  and  frozen  by  the  cares  of 
the  world,  or  cultivated  into  mere  smiles  by  the  arts  of  society, 
still  there  are  dormant  fires  lurking  in  the  depths  of  the  coldest 
bosom,  which,  when  once  kindled,  become  impetuous,  and  are 
sometimes  desolating  in  their  effects." 

8.  "  She  sends  forth  her  sympathies  on  adventure;  she  embarks 
her  whole  soul  in  the  traffic  of  affection;  and  if  shipwrecked,  her 
case  is  hopeless  —  for  it  is  a  bankruptcy  of  the  heart." 


3 '4  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

9.  "  Her  lithe  mind  winds  itself  with  surprising  grace  through 
the  metaphysical  and  other  intricacies  of  her  subject." 

10.  "  Dante's  opinions  have  life  in  them  still,  because  they  were 
from  living  sources  of  reflection  and  experience,  because  they 
were  reasoned  out  from  the  astronomic  laws  of  history  and  ethics, 
and  were  not  weather-guesses  snatched  in  a  glance  at  the  doubtful 
political  sky  of  the  hour." 

n.  "His  (Dante's)  is  the  first  keel  that  ever  ventured  into 
the  silent  sea  of  human  consciousness  to  find  a  new  world  of 
poetry." 

12.  "  He  wrote  too  much  to  write  always  well;  for  it  is  not  a 
great  Xerxes-army  of  words,  but  a  compact  Greek  ten  thousand, 
that  march  safely  down  to  posterity." 

The  Metaphor  often  assumes  inanimate  things  to 
have  life;  as,  the  thirsty  ground,  a  pitiless  stone,  a 
raging  storm,  a  frowning  precipice,  winged  words. 
In  these,  some  quality  of  living  things  is  attributed  to 
inanimate  objects;  but  sometimes  there  is  a  more  com- 
plete identification  of  human  attributes,  endowing  the 
object  with  personality  —  sex,  speech,  thought,  emotion, 
and  purpose;  as,  "Good-bye,  proud  world.  I  'm  going 
home.  Thou  'rt  not  my  friend,  and  I  'm  not  thine." 
When  the  personal  element  becomes  prominent  the 
Metaphor  is  called  Personification.  Arising  by  such 
imperceptible  gradations  from  the  Metaphor,  there  is 
a  broad  and  very  indefinite  boundary  to  which  either 
the  name  Metaphor  or  Personification  is  applied  with 
equal  propriety.  Personifications  of  the  lowest  degree, 
which  consist  in  merely  attributing  some  quality  of 
living  beings  to  things  inanimate,  are  usually  classed 
under  Metaphors  also.  But  Personification,  even  of 
the  highest  degree,  may  be  explained  and  classed  as 
Metaphor,  for  it  assumes  identity  of  attributes. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  315 

The  foundation  of  this  figure  is  obviously  in  the 
intuition  of  the  mind  which  feels  a  community  of  life 
with  all  objects  about  it.  The  mind  naturally  animates 
inanimate  things.  The  child  elevates  into  a  companion 
of  its  life  the  most  common  and  trivial  object;  and  in 
the  lower  phase  of  the  mind's  development  every  object 
and  every  phenomena  is  explained  by  attributing  to  it 
intelligence,  feeling,  motive.  Man  never,  perhaps, 
entirely  frees  himself  from  the  impression  that  the 
most  common  object  has  personality  like  himself. 
Although  in  his  cultured  state  he  does  not  thus 
explain  them,  yet  whatever  touches  him  with  emotion, 
he,  for  the  moment,  unconsciously  bestows  upon  it  the 
idea  of  life. 

The  nature  of  this  figure  suggests  the  source  of  its 
efficiency.  It  gives  concreteness  and  animation  to  style. 
It  makes  all  objects  our  companions,  and  touches  us 
with  the  joy  of  human  sympathy  by  the  life  with  which 
the  object  is  endowed.  This  figure  thus  serves  to  please 
and  to  impress. 

Let  the  following  be  explained,  stating  why  they  are 
both  Metaphors  and  Personifications.  Note  also  the 
grade  of  Personification,  whether  they  attribute  some 
quality  of  living  beings  to  inanimate  things  or  entire 
personality,  — sex,  speech,  human  feelings,  or  purpose, 
—  and  the  gain  over  literal  statement :  — 

1.  "  Build  me  straight,  O  worthy  master, 

Staunch  and  strong,  a  goodly  vessel, 
That  shall  laugh  at  all  disaster, 
And  with  wave  and  whirlwind  wrestle." 

2.  "  With  thy  red  lips,  redder  still 

Kissed  by  strawberries  from  the  hill." 


3 16  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

3.  "  Yet  Love  will  dream  and  Faith  will  trust, 

That  somehow,  somewhere,  meet  we  must." 

4.  "True  it  is  that  Death's  face  seems  stern  and  cold, 

When  he  is  sent  to  summon  those  we  love." 

5.  "In  vain  Faith  blows  her  trumpet  to  summon  back  her 
scattered  troop." 

6.  "  Philosophy  is  a  noble  lady,  partaking  of  the  divine  essence 
by  a  kind  of  eternal  marriage." 

7.  "  Down  came  the  storm,  and  smote  amain 

The  vessel  in  its  strength ; 
She  shuddered  and  paused,  like  a  frightened  steed, 
Then  leaped  her  cable's  length." 

8.  "  Flattery  spits  her  poison  at  the  mightiest  peers." 

9.  "  She  starts  —  she  moves  —  she  seems  to  feel 

The  thrill  of  life  along  her  keel, 
And  spurning  with  her  foot  the  ground, 
With  one  exulting  joyous  bound, 
She  leaps  into  the  ocean's  arms." 
10.  "  Yonder   snow-white  cloud  that  floats   in   the  ether  above 

me, 
Seems  like  a  hand  that  is  pointing  and  beckoning  me  over 

the  ocean. 
There  is  another  hand  that  is  not  so  ghost-like 
Holding   me,   drawing    me    back,   and   clasping  mine  for 

protection. 
Float,  O  hand  of  cloud,  and  vanish  away  in  the  ether. 
Roll  thyself  up  like  a  fist,  to  threaten  and  daunt  me;   I 

heed  not 
Either  your  warning  or  menace,  or  any  omen  of  evil." 

The  last  figure  above  constitutes  the  highest  degree 
of  Personification,  - -the  degree  in  which  the  inanimate 
object  is  introduced  as  speaking  or  listening.  This  is 
proper  only  under  the  most  intense  feeling.  Nothing 
but  violent  emotion  can  stimulate  the  mind  to  conceive 
an  insensible  object  as  listening  to  what  we  say  or  as 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  317 

making  any  response  to  us.  This  grade  of  Personifica- 
tion is  frequently,  if  not  generally,  called  Apostrophe, 
meaning  to  turn  away  -  -  "  a  turning  away  from  the  real 
auditory,  and  addressing  an  absent  or  imaginary  one." 
The  following  are  examples:  — 

"  Roll  on  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean  roll. 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain." 

"  Sail  forth  into  the  sea,  O  ship, 
Through  wind  and  wave,  right  onward  steer." 

Strictly,  however,  Apostrophe  is  limited  to  an  address 
to  a  real  person,  but  one  absent  or  dead,  as  if  he  were 
present  and  listening  to  the  speaker;  as, - 

"  Milton,  thou  should'st  be  living  at  this  hour. 
England  has  need  of  thee." 

"  Great  father  of  your  country,  we  heed  your  words,  we  feel 
them  as  if  you  uttered  them  with  lips  of  flesh  and  blood." 

In  its  restricted  sense,  an  Apostrophe  is  never 
Personification;  for  there  is  only  the  supposition  that 
persons  who  are  absent  or  dead  are  present.  This 
assumed  identity  between  the  imagined  person  and  the 
real  one  is  the  ground  for  classifying  this  figure  with 
those  of  Comparison.  In  the  highest  form  of  Personi- 
fication, the  object  is  both  personified  and  addressed, 
giving  it  a  claim  to  both  classes. 

Another  variety  of  Implied  Comparison,  and  one 
closely  resembling  Apostrophe,  is  Vision.  Vision  dif- 
fers from  Apostrophe  in  the  fact  that  Vision  merely 
narrates  or  describes,  while  Apostrophe  addresses  or 
invokes  persons.    An  object  or  event,  in  the  past  or  fu- 


3  I  8  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ture,  may  make  so  vivid  an  impression  that  it  seems  to 
be  present,  as  in  this  passage  from  Webster's  descrip- 
tion of  a  murder:  — 

"  The  assassin  enters,  through  the  window  already  prepared, 
into  an  unoccupied  apartment.  With  noiseless  foot  he  paces  the 
lonely  hall  half-lighted  by  the  moon;  he  winds  up  the  ascent  of 
the  stairs,  and  reaches  the  door  of  the  chamber." 

The  last  variety  of  Comparison  to  be  noted  here  is 
the  Hyperbole.  Hyperbole  breaks  down  the  truth 
limitations  of  size  and  degree;  while  Vision,  that  of 
time  and  distance.  In  Hyperbole,  the  object,  under 
excited  emotion,  is  exaggerated  beyond  the  limits  re- 
quired by  sober  judgment,  and  the  exaggerated  object 
presented  as  if  it  were  the  true  one;  as,  "His  hands 
dangled  a  mile  out  of  his  sleeves."  '"His  muscles 
strong  as  iron  bands." 

Allegory.  --  An  Allegory  is  usually  defined  as  an 
extended  Metaphor,  both  being  implied  comparisons, 
differing  only  in  length.  But  the  more  fundamental 
distinction  is  the  fact  that  in  the  Allegory  the  compari- 
son is  more  hidden,  making  the  degree  of  implication 
rather  than  length  the  basis  of  its  classification.  The 
Allegory  is  usually,  and  it  may  always  be,  longer  than 
the  Metaphor,  but  this  is  an  accident  of  its  more  funda- 
mental quality.  Haven  says:  "It  must  not  be  sup- 
posed that  allegories  are  necessarily  long.  They  are 
often  brief."  Our  definition  must,  therefore,  contain 
some  mark  of  distinction  other  than  that  of  length. 

If  it  should  be  said  that  Israel  is  like  an  empty  vine, 
a  Simile  would  be  formed ;  both  terms  of  comparison, 
"  Israel  "  and  "  empty  vine,"  being  brought   before  the 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  3 19 

mind  and  their  resemblance  expressed  by  the  word 
"like."  If  it  should  be  said  that  Israel  is  an  empty 
vine,  there  would  be  formed  a  Metaphor;  both  terms 
of  comparison  being  brought  before  the  mind  and  their 
identity  asserted  by  the  copula.  But  if  the  vine,  the 
representative  term,  alone  should  be  presented,  in  brief 
or  at  length,  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  clear  that 
Israel  was  meant,  without  bringing  the  two  objects 
directly  together,  the  figure  would  be  an  Allegory. 
When  Longfellow  says,  "  My  life  is  cold,  and  dark, 
and  dreary,"  the  terms  of  comparison  are  intentionally 
brought  together,  as  in  the  Metaphor;  but  when,  in 
the  second  stanza,  after  having  described  the  rainy  clay 
and  his  life  in  terms  of  it,  he  says,  "  It  rains,  and  the 
wind  is  never  weary,"  the  secondary,  or  representative 
object,  only  one  is  mentioned;  thus  leaving  the  mind 
to  infer  the  object  which  the  sentence  is  intended  to 
describe  and  forming  an  Allegory.  At  first  this  line 
appears  to  be  literal;  and  reflection  is  required  to  dis- 
cern that  he  means  to  speak  of  life,  and  not  the  rain 
and  wind.  Thus  there  is  a  regular  graduation  from 
the  Simile  to  the  Allegory,  —  Simile  having  two  terms 
compared;  Metaphor  having  two  terms  with  comparison 
omitted;  Allegory,  expressing  only  one  term,  and  that 
the  secondary,  with  the  comparison  and  the  primary 
object  to  be  discovered.  The  Simile  is  the  clearest, 
and  must  be  used  when  the  others  would  be  obscure; 
the  Allegory  is  most  obscure,  requiring  most  labor 
from  the  mind,  but  yielding  the  more  pleasure  through 
the  greater  freedom  of  discovery  which  it  permits  to  the 
imagination. 


320  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

It  thus  appears  that  the  chief  fact  about  an  Allegory 
is  not  its  length,  but  the  manner  in  which  it  expresses 
its  truth.  It  may  consist  of  a  single  statement,  as  in 
the  example  from  Longfellow;  or  it  may  fill  a  volume, 
as  in  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  They  may  vary  in  length, 
but  in  one  point  they  cannot  vary;  namely,  that  the 
mind  must  be  left  to  make  out,  by  its  own  ingenuity, 
the  primary  object  of  comparison.  Therefore,  an 
Allegory  may  be  defined  as  a  figure  of  comparison  in 
which  the  representative  object  only  is  presented, 
leaving  the  mind  to  make  out,  by  its  own  ingenuity, 
the  primary  object.  "  An  Allegory,"  says  Haven,  "  is  a 
fictitious  narrative  or  description  so  constructed  as 
to  suggest  thoughts  and  facts  entirely  different  from 
those  which  it  appears  to  relate."  Webster's  Dictionary 
marks  clearly  the  true  distinction:  "A  figurative 
sentence  or  discourse,  in  which  the  principal  subject  is 
described  by  another  subject  resembling  it  in  its  prop- 
erties and  circumstances.  The  principal  subject  is  thus 
kept  out  of  view,  and  we  are  left  to  collect  the  inten- 
tions of  the  writer  or  speaker  by  the  resemblance  of  the 
secondary  to  the  primary  subject." 

It  is  not  necessary,  in  fact  not  permissible,  for  the 
Allegory  to  be  so  hidden  as  to  puzzle  the  reader.  The 
meaning  should  be  plain,  but  must  not  be  pointed  out. 
Indeed,  a  few  words  of  explanation  at  the  outset  in  order 
to  put  the  reader  on  the  right  track  are  allowable.  This 
figure  does  not  prevent  the  mention  of  the  primary  ob- 
ject in  the  course  of  presentation;  yet  it  must  be  so 
done  as  to  leave  the  mind  to  decide  that  it  is  the  pri- 
mary   object.      One    may  not    read   far    in   "Pilgrim's 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  32  I 

Progress"  till  he  discovers  the  subject  of  discussion; 
but  the  remainder  does  not  then  cease  to  be  allegorical, 
because  each  part  has  a  new  application  to  some  phase 
of  the  theme.     When  Longfellow  says, 

"  Be  still  sad  heart  and  cease  repining, 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining," 

he  forms  an  Allegory  in  the  second  line,  although  the 
general  theme,  life,  has  been  mentioned  ;  but  the  thought 
of  happiness  beyond  the  present  trials  is  left  for  the 
reader  to  supply. 

The  Allegory  is  very  extensively  used,  and  often 
constitutes  the  literary  embodiment  of  an  entire  dis- 
course. Many  good  specimens  are  found  in  the  Bible, 
all  the  Saviour's  parables  being  allegorical;  for  example, 
the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  The  eighteenth  Psalm 
contains  a  neat  example:  — 

"  Thou  hast  brought  a  vine  out  of  Egypt;  thou  hast  cast  out 
the  heathen  and  planted  it.  Thou  prepardest  room  before  it,  and 
didst  cause  it  to  take  deep  root,  and  it  filled  the  land.  The  hills 
were  covered  with  the  shadow  of  it,  and  the  boughs  thereof  were 
like  the  goodly  cedars.  She  sent  out  her  boughs  unto  the  sea,  and 
her  branches  unto  the  river.  Why  hast  thou  then  broken  down 
her  hedges,  so  that  all  they  which  pass  by  the  way  do  pluck  her? 
The  boar  out  of  the  wood  doth  waste  it,  and  the  wild  beast  of  the 
field  doth  devour  it.  Return,  we  beseech  thee,  O  (iod  of  hosts; 
look  down  from  heaven,  and  behold,  and  visit  this  vine." 

The  following  are  distinguished  examples  of  the 
Allegory,  and  may  be  further  studied  to  impress  the 
nature,  beauty,  and  force  of  this  figure :  — 

Bryant's  "  Waiting  by  the  Gate,"  Longfellow's  "  Building  the 
Ship,"  Foe's   "Raven"    and    "Haunted    Palace,"   Hawthorne's 


322  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

"  Celestial  Railroad,"  Addison's  "  Vision  of  Mirza,"  Spenser's 
"  Faerie  Queen,"  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's  Progress, "  Chaucer's 
"  House  of  Fame,"  Swift's  "  Tale  of  the  Tub  "  and  "  Gulliver's 
Travels,"   Dante's  "  Divina  Commedia." 

Since  only  the  representative  term  of  the  compari- 
son is  given  in  the  Allegory,  leaving  both  the  com- 
parison and  the  real  subject  of  consideration  to  be  made 
out,  sculpture  and  painting  may  be  allegorical.  The 
statue  of  a  child  clasping  a  dove  to  its  bosom,  but  as- 
saulted by  a  snake,  represents  innocence  attacked 
by  evil;  and  hope  may  be  allegorically  represented  by 
the  picture  of  youth  leaning  against  an  anchor.  The 
whole  course  of  man's  life  may  be  symbolized  by  a  series 
of  pictures.  All  the  virtues  of  life,  faith,  hope,  courage, 
purity,  etc.,  have  their  emblems.  Even  architecture  is 
said  to  be  allegorical.  "  The  heavy  Gothic  style  is  felt 
to  symbolize  mystery,  profundity,  and  to  awaken  rever- 
ence, and  is  therefore  suited  to  a  house  of  worship; 
while  the  lighter  Grecian  styles  betoken  rather  cheer- 
fulness and  social  pleasure." 

When  the  allegorical  relation  takes  place  among  men, 
and  from  which  an  instructive  lesson  is  to  be  drawn, 
the  Allegory  is  called  a  Parable.  The  Parable  of  the 
Prodigal  Son  and  of  the  Sower  are  good  examples. 
This  form  of  Allegory  is  chiefly  used  in  conveying  a 
religious  truth. 

When  the  Allegory  is  founded  on  the  supposed  action 
of  brutes  or  inanimate  things,  it  is  called  a  Fable.  The 
Fable  differs  from  the  Parable  in  not  being  confined  to 
the  rules  of  possibility  or  probability.  The  Fable,  like 
the  Parable,   is  designed  to  teach  some  useful  truth. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  323 

"Aesop's  Fables"  are  classic  examples.  The  following 
from  the  ninth  chapter  of  Judges  is  a  good  type  of  the 
class.  Let  it  be  shown  first  why  it  is  an  Allegory, 
and  then  its  characteristic  mark  as  Fable  should  be 
given :  — 

"  The  trees  went  forth  on  a  time  to  anoint  a  king  over  them  ; 
and  said  unto  the  olive  tree,  Reign  thou  over  us.  But  the  olive 
tree  said  unto  them,  Should  I  leave  my  fatness,  wherewith  by  me 
they  honor  God  and  man,  and  go  to  be  promoted  over  the  trees  ? 
And  the  trees  said  to  the  fig  tree,  Come  thou  and  reign  over  us. 
But  the  fig  tree  said  unto  them,  Should  I  forsake  my  sweetness, 
and  my  good  fruit,  and  go  to  be  promoted  over  the  trees  ?  Then 
said  the  trees  unto  the  vine,  Come  thou  and  reign  over  us.  And 
the  vine  said  unto  them,  Should  I  leave  my  wine,  which  cheereth 
God  and  man,  and  go  to  be  promoted  over  the  trees?  Then  said 
all  the  trees  unto  the  bramble,  Come  thou  and  reign  over  us.  And 
the  bramble  said  unto  the  trees,  If  in  truth  ye  anoint  me  king  over 
you,  then  come  and  put  your  trust  in  my  shadow;  and  if  not,  let 
fire  come  out  of  the  bramble,  and  devour  the  cedars  of  Lebanon." 

Figures  of  Contrast. 

There  are  two  general  classes  of  figures  of  contrast, 
—  Expressed  Contrast  and  Implied  Contrast. 

Expressed  Contrast.  —  The  first  of  these  is  called 
Antithesis.  Antithesis  is  a  figure  of  contrast  which 
impresses  an  idea  by  bringing  it  into  the  same  concep- 
tion with  its  opposite;  as,  "A  false  balance  is  an 
abomination  to  the  Lord:  but  a  just  weight  is  his 
delight."  The  Proverbs  are  constructed  almost  wholly 
on  the  figure  of  Antithesis. 

The  Antithesis  is  not  always  in  the  form  of  the  bal- 
anced sentence  as  in  the  above.    A  part  of  considerable 


324  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

length  may  be  constructed  to  produce  in  the  mind  a 
state  opposite  the  one  intended  in  order  to  intensify 
the  feeling  which  the  writer  wishes  to  arouse.  Whittier 
thus  introduces  "  Marguerite  "  :  — 

"  The  robins  sang  in  the  orchard,  the  buds  into  blossoms  grew; 
Little  of  human  sorrow  the  buds  and  the  robins  knew." 

"  Sick,  in  an  alien  household,  the  poor  French  neutral  lay; 
Into  her  lonesome  garret  fell  the  light  of  the  April  day." 

Byron's  description  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  in 
"Childe  Harold,"  bringing  before  the  mind  the  rap- 
turous joy  of  the  music  and  the  dance  before  the 
appalling  horrors  of  the  battle  broke  upon  them,  is 
an  example  of  the  effective  use  of  the  principle  of 
Antithesis. 

The  second  and  last  figure  of  expressed  contrast  is 
the  Climax,  meaning  literally  a  ladder.  This  is  a  figure 
or  an  arrangement  in  which  a  sentence  rises,  as  it  were, 
step  by  step  in  importance,  force,  or  dignity;  as, — 

"  The  golden  sun, 
The  planets,  all  the  infinite  host  of  heaven, 
Are  shining  on  the  sad  abodes  of  death, 
Through  the  still  lapse  of  ages." 

"Antithesis  contrasts  objects  by  bringing  them  to- 
gether in  opposition;  Climax  contrasts  objects  by 
exhibiting  their  degrees  of  difference  through  a  series 
of  intermediates."  1 

Climax,  like  Antithesis,  is  not  confined  to  a  single 
sentence.  Its  principle  controls  the  arrangement  of  the 
parts  of  a  discourse,  which  should  always  rise  in  force, 

1  D.  r.Hffl. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  325 

beauty,  and  dignity  to  the  end.  Bryant,  in  his  "  In- 
scription for  the  Entrance  to  a  Wood,"  forms  a  unique 
climax  in  attributing  human  feelings  to  objects  in  the 
following  order:  birds,  squirrels,  insects,  trees,  flowers, 
trunks  of  trees,  and  mossy  rocks.  This  at  first  seems 
an  anticlimax,  proceeding  from  the  highest  to  the  low- 
est, but  the  personification  necessarily  becomes  stronger 
as  the  object  becomes  lower  in  the  scale  of  being.  To 
attribute  human  joy  to  a  bird  is  more  natural  and 
requires  less  effort  of  the  imagination  than  to  attribute 
human  contentment  to  a  mossy  rock. 

Anticlimax,  or  Bathos,  is  a  fault  in  style,  unless 
intentionally  used  for  purposes  of  wit.  In  such  cases 
the  seeming  anticlimax  is  a  true  climax;  for  the  effect, 
while  different  in  kind,  is  greater  in  degree.  Holmes 
uses  the  anticlimax  to  good  effect  in  the  "  One-hoss 
Shay,"  in  descending  from  the  important  events  of  the 
Lisbon  Earthquake  and  the  defeat  of  Braddock's  army 
to  the  completion  of  the  Deacon's  Masterpiece:  — 

"  That  was  the  year  when  Lisbon-town 
Saw  the  earth  open  and  gulp  her  down. 
And  Braddock's  army  was  done  so  brown, 
Left  without  a  scalp  to  its  crown. 
It  was  on  the  terrible  Earthquake-day 
That  the  Deacon  finished  the  one-hoss  shay." 

Implied  Contrast. — These  are  divided  into  four 
classes  :  the  Epigram,  Interrogation,  Irony,  and  Wit 
and  Humor:  — 

1.  An  Epigram  has  no  clear  distinguishing  mark.  It 
is  the  startling  expression  of  a  thought  by  means  of 
the  contradiction   between  the  real   and  the   apparent 


326  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

meaning.      It  is  in  general  any  pungent  way  of  saying  a 
thing.    The  following  are  examples  of  good  Epigrams :  — 

"  Language  is  the  art  of  concealing  thought."  "  Those  labori- 
ous authors  who  mistake  perspiration  for  inspiration."  "  When 
you  have  nothing  to  say,  say  it."  "  The  more  haste,  the  less 
speed."  "  One  secret  in  education  is  to  know  how  wisely  to  lose 
time."  "  The  child  is  father  to  the  man."  "  He  asked  for  bread 
and  received  a  stone." 

"  Not  louder  shrieks  to  pitying  Heaven  are  cast, 
When  husbands,  or  when  lap-dogs,  breathe  their  last." 

"He  went  and  told  the  sexton,  and  the  sexton  tolled  the  bell." 

The  last  example  is  a  variety  of  Epigram  called 
Paronomasia,  or  Pun,  being  a  play  upon  words.  An 
Epigram  plays  a  conspicuous  part  in  wit,  the  charac- 
teristic element  of  each  being  the  shock  of  surprise. 
So  frequently  do  some  authors  use  the  Epigram  that 
their  style  may  be  characterized  as  epigrammatic. 
Pope  belongs  to  this  class. 

2.  The  second  figure  of  implied  contrast  is  Interro- 
gation. Interrogation,  as  a  figure,  does  not  seek 
information,  but  challenges  the  decision  of  the  hearer, 
and  thus  compels  his  activity;  as, — ■ 

"  Hath  a  dog  money?  is  it  possible 
A  cur  can  lend  three  thousand  ducats  ?  " 

The  contrast  consists  in  forcing  on  the  attention 
the  opposite  truth  to  the  one  presented.  This  figure 
contributes  to  Energy,  as  may  be  illustrated  by  chang- 
ing the  foregoing  example  to  a  direct  statement.  It  is 
an  appeal  for  a  silent  rejoinder.  The  Interrogation  is  a 
sign  of  thorough  conviction  on  the  part  of  the  speaker. 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  327 

It  shows  perfect  confidence  in  the  truth  of  what  is 
uttered,  for  it  implies  that  the  speaker  is  willing  to 
leave  the  decision  to  the  auditor.  It  is  the  natural 
expression  of  the  vivid  realization  of  truth,  and  a  pro- 
found confidence  in  the  acceptance  of  it  by  the  persons 
addressed. 

3.  The  third  figure  of  implied  contrast  is  called 
Irony.  This  figure  states  in  all  solemnity  the  exact 
opposite  of  the  truth  intended  to  be  conveyed.  The 
following  from  Whittier's  "  Hunters  of  Men  "  are  good 
examples :  — 

"  And  woman,  kind  woman,  wife,  widow,  and  maid, 
For  the  good  of  the  hunted,  is  lending  her  aid." 

"  Oh,  goodly  and  grand  is  our  hunting  to  see, 
In  this  land  of  the  brave  and  this  home  of  the  free." 

Irony,  with  its  different  forms  of  Burlesque,  Ridicule, 
Derision,  Mockery,  Satire,  and  Sarcasm,  is  a  most  effec- 
tive means  of  impressing  truth,  and  hence,  with  the 
other  figures  of  contrast,  must  be  classed  with  the 
figures  of  Energy.  These  forms  of  contrast  have  been 
cutting  weapons  in  every  political  and  moral  reform, 
as  well  illustrated  in  Whittier's  "War  Poems,"  Lowell's 
"  Biglow  Papers,"  Nasby's  editorials,  and  Swift's  "Gul- 
liver's Travels." 

4.  Wit  and  Humor  are  also  based  on  contrasts  of 
mental  states.  These  arise  from  some  new,  unexpected, 
and  pleasing  turn  of  thought.  They  involve  "an  exag- 
geration, a  reversal  of  ideas,  a  glimpse  of  the  incon- 
gruous or  the  impossible."  Lincoln,  on  entering  the 
room  in  which  the  proper  length  of  a  man's  legs  was 


3 2^  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

being  discussed,  was  unexpectedly  called  upon  to  decide 
the  question.  He  said  that  he  had  given  the  matter 
very  little  consideration,  but  had  always  supposed  that 
a  man's  legs  should  be  long  enough  to  reach  from  his 
body  to  the  ground.  In  this  he  furnished  us  with  a 
good  example  of  wit  through  the  incongruous  and  the 
impossible.  At  once  there  arises  a  picture  of  a  man 
walking  clear  of  the  earth  because  his  legs  are  so  short 
that  they  will  not  reach  it.  The  mind  is  pleasantly 
surprised  by  the  fanciful  result  from  such  a  cause. 

Any  playful  contradiction,  reversal,  or  exaggeration 
of  the  thought  relations  —  any  playful  violation  of  the 
accustomed  movement  of  thought  —  produces  the  feel- 
ing of  the  Ludicrous  (ludere,  to  play)  in  its  different 
forms  of  Wit  and  Humor. 

There  is  no  sharp  distinction  between  Wit  and 
Humor.  Wit  is  a  sudden  flash  out  of  the  electric 
atmosphere  called  Humor.  Humor  lingers, — pro- 
duces a  more  gentle  and  prolonged  stimulation;  Wit 
suddenly  overthrows  the  mental  balance  with  a  shock 
of  pleasant  surprise.  Besides,  Humor  has  a  mingling 
of  sympathy  and  good  nature,  —  has  heart  in  it;  while 
Wit  arises  chiefly  from  intellectual  surprises.  But  in 
whatever  form  appearing,  they  arise  from  contrasts  of 
mental  states  produced  by  the  imagination  in  playful 
exercise  on  the  literal  relations  of  thought. 

Wit  and  Humor  are  effective  means  of  impressing 
thought,  and  may  be  classed  under  the  head  of  figura- 
tive energy.  They  are  also  productive  of  pleasure  for 
its  own  sake  and  have  an  esthetic  value.  Irving;,  Addi- 
son,  and  Mark  Twain  are  read  for  the  Wit  and  Humor 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  329 

contained.  Yet  Wit  and  Humor  are  appreciated  most 
when  in  the  service  of  some  thought  or  lesson  to  be 
impressed.  The  speaker  or  the  writer  who  proposes 
to  be  witty  for  the  sake  of  the  wit  produces  far  less 
pleasure  than  he  who,  by  means  of  Wit,  clinches  a 
truth  or  points  a  moral.  Like  Irony,  Wit  and  Humor 
have  been  powerful  weapons  in  the  battles  of  truth  and 
virtue;  and  should,  therefore,  be  classed  as  means  of 
securing  Energy. 

EXERCISE    IN    CLASSIFYING    AND    TESTING   FIGURES. 

In  the  following  selections  require  the  student  (i) 
to  point  out  the  figures;  (2)  to  state  the  kind  as  to 
nature,  and  explain  its  structure;  (3)  the  kind  as  to 
effect  over  literal  language  :  — 

1 .  "  Style  is    the  gossamer  upon  which  seeds  of  truth   float 
through  the  world." 

2.  "  Youth  is  the  morning  of  life." 

3.  "  The  fat  earth  feed  thy  branchy  root." 

4.  "  My  days  are  swifter  than  the  weaver's  shuttle." 

5.  "  Her  eyelids  dropped  their  silken  eaves." 

6.  "  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 

As  to  be  hated  needs  but  to  be  seen." 

7.  "  But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  shore, 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar." 

8.  "  Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows." 

9.  "  Up  the  high  hill  he  heaved  a  huge  round  stone." 

10.  "The  bishop  of  Alexandria  was  not  the  first  triumvir  who 
came  to  an  untimely  end  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile." 

11.  "I    have    not    the   warmest    feeling  of    affection    for   that 
person." 


330  THE    SCIEKXE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

12.  "And  there  are  also  many  other  things  which  Jesus  did, 
the  which  if  they  should  be  written  every  one,  I  suppose  that 
even  the  world  itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be 
written." 

13.  "  Who  can  number  the  stars  or  who  can  count  the  sands 
on  the  seashore  ?  " 

14.  "  Hail,  hidden  to  the  knees  in  fern, 

Broad  oak  of  Summer  chace." 

15.  "A  sunbeam  flutter'd  round  her  lip 

Like  a  golden  butterfly." 

16.  "  Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash." 

17.  "Short  lived,  indeed,  was  Irish  independence.  I  sat  by 
her  cradle;   I  followed  her  hearse." 

18.  "  It  is  an  outrage  to  bind  a  Roman  citizen;  to  scourge  him 
is  an  atrocious  crime;  to  put  him  to  death  is  almost  parricide; 
but  to  crucify  him  —  what  shall  I  call  it?  " 

19.  "I  can  tell  him,  sir,  that  Massachusetts  and  her  people  of 
all  classes,  hold  him  and  his  love,  and  his  venerations,  and  his 
speech,  and  his  principles,  and  his  standards  of  truth  in  utter  — 
what  shall  I  say  ?  —  anything  but  respect." 

20.  "Can  I  call  you  citizens  ?  Citizens!  who  have  trampled 
under  foot  the  authority  of  the  Senate?  " 

21.  "I  know  the  circumstances  under  which  it  happened  — 
circumstances  which  could  not  be  avoided." 

22.  "  I  am  the  good  shepherd  and  know  my  sheep." 

23.  "  The  pyramids,  doting  with  age,  have  forgotten  the  names 
of  their  founders." 

24.  "  The  Lord  is  my  song.     He  is  become  my  salvation." 

25.  "  The  scepter  shall  not  depart  from  Judah." 

26.  "  Caesar  leaves  Gaul,  crosses  the  Rubicon,  and  enters 
Italy." 

27.  "  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.  O  death,  where  is  thy 
sting?     O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?" 

28.  "  Though  grave,  yet  trifling,  zealous,  yet  untrue." 

29.  "  Her  voice  is  but  the  shadow  of  a  sound." 

30.  "  Fair  science  frowned  not  on  his  humble  birth, 

And  melancholy  marked  him  for  her  own." 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  331 

31.  "  Elijah  said,  cry  aloud  for  he  is  a  god." 

32.  "There  went  out  a  decree  from  Caesar  Augustus  that  all 
the  world  should  be  taxed." 

33.  "  Gray  hairs  should  be  respected." 

34.  "  He  set  up  parliament  by  the  stroke  of  his  pen,  and  scat- 
tered them  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth." 

35.  "At  length  has  come  the  marriage  day  of  beauty  and  of 
strength." 

36.  "  Some  mute  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest  ; 

Some  Cromwell,  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood." 

37.  "  The   English  gain  two  hours  a  day  by    clipping  their 
words." 

38.  "  Now  Ben  he  loved  a  pretty  maid, 

Her  name  was  Nelly  Gray; 
So  he  went  to  pay  her  his  devours 
When  he'd  devoured  his  pay." 

39.  "I  '11  tell  you  a  story  that 's  not  in  Tom  Moore:  — 

Young  love  likes  to  knock  at  a  pretty  girl's  door." 

40.  "  His  heart  kept  goin'  pity-pat, 

But  her'n  went  pity  Zekle." 

41.  "  Could  we  forget  the  widow'd  hour, 

And  look  on  Spirits  breathed  away, 

As  on  a  maiden  in  the  day 

When  first  she  wears  his  orange  flower ! 

"  When  crown'd  with  blessing  she  doth  rise 
To  take  her  latest  leave  of  home, 
And  hope  and  light  regrets  that  come 
Make  April  of  her  tender  eyes." 

42.  "  Life  is  not  of  idle  ore, 
But  iron  dug  from  central  gloom, 
And  heated  hot  with  burning  fears, 
And  dipped  in  baths  of  hissing  tears, 
And  batter'd  with  the  shocks  of  doom 

"  To  shape  and  use.     Arise  and  fly 
The  reeling  Faun,  the  sensual  feast ; 


332  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Move  upward  working  out  the  beast, 
And  let  the  ape  and  tiger  die." 

43.  "  The  poet,  like  a  delighted  boy,  brings  you  heaps  of  rain- 
bow bubbles,  opaline,  air-borne,  spherical  as  the  world,  instead 
of  a  few  drops  of  soap  and  water." 

44.  "  An  idea  steeped  in  verse  becomes  suddenly  more  incisive 
and  more  brilliant;  the  iron  becomes  steel." 

45.  "Good-by  to  Flattery's  fawning  face; 

To  Grandeur  with  his  wise  grimace; 
To  upstart  Wealth's  averted  eye; 
To  supple  office,  low  and  high." 

46.  "  Language  is  fossil  poetry.  As  the  limestone  of  the  con- 
tinent consists  of  infinite  masses  of  the  shells  of  animalcules,  so 
language  is  made  up  of  images,  or  tropes,  which  now,  in  their 
secondary  use,  have  long  since  ceased  to  remind  us  of  their  poetic 
origin." 

47.  "  Nature  is  sanative,  refining,  elevating.  How  cunningly 
she  hides  every  wrinkle  of  her  inconceivable  antiquity  under  roses, 
and  violets,  and  morning  dew!  Every  inch  of  the  mountain  is 
scarred  by  unimaginable  convulsions,  yet  the  new  day  is  purpled 
with  the  bloom  of  youth  and  love." 

48.  "  I  hear  the  tread  of  pioneers 

Of  nations  yet  to  be, 
The  first  low  wash  of  waves,  where  soon 
Shall  roll  a  human  sea. 

"  The  rudiments  of  empire  here 
Are  plastic  yet  and  warm; 
The  chaos  of  a  mighty  world 
Is  rounding  into  form." 

49.  ••  We  have  rolled  on  life's  journey,  —  how  fast  and  how  far! 

One  round  of  humanity's  many-wheeled  car, 
But  up-hill  and  down-hill,  through  rattle  and  rub, 
Old  true  Twenty-niners!  we  've  stuck  to  our  hub! 


THE    LANGUAGE    IN    DISCOURSE.  333 

"  While  a  brain  lives  to  think  or  a  bosom  to  feel, 
We  will  cling  to  it  still  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel ! 
And  age,  as  it  chills  us,  shall  fasten  the  tire 
That  youth  fitted  round  in  his  circle  of  fire." 

50.  "  This  many-diapasoned  maze, 

Through  which  the  breath  of  being  strays, 
Whose  music  makes  our  earth  divine, 
Has  work  for  mortal  hands  like  mine. 
My  duty  lies  before  me.     Lo, 
The  lever  there!  take  hold  and  blow! 
And  He  whose  hand  is  on  the  keys 
Will  play  the  tune  as  He  shall  please." 

51.  "  And  if  I  should  live  to  be 

The  last  leaf  upon  the  tree 

In  the  spring, 
Let  them  smile  as  I  do  now, 
At  the  old  forsaken  bough 

Where  I  cling." 

52.  "  The  snow  had  begun  in  the  gloaming, 

And  busily  all  the  night 
Had  been  heaping  field  and  highway 
With  a  silence  deep  and  white. 

"  Every  pine  and  fir  and  hemlock 

Wore  ermine  too  dear  for  an  earl, 
And  the  poorest  twig  on  the  elm  tree 
Was  ridged  inch  deep  with  pearl. 

"  I  thought  of  a  mound  in  sweet  Auburn 
Where  a  little  headstone  stood; 
How  the  flakes  were  folding  it  gently, 
As  the  robins  the  babes  in  the  wood. 

"  Up  spoke  our  own  little  Mabel, 

Saying,  '  Father,  who  makes  it  snow  ? ' 
And  I  told  her  of  the  good  All-Father 
Who  cares  for  us  here  below. 


334  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

"  Again  I  looked  at  the  snowfall, 
And  thought  of  the  leaden  sky 
That  arched  o'er  our  first  great  sorrow, 
When  the  mound  was  heaped  so  high. 
"  I  remembered  the  gradual  patience 

That  fell  from  that  cloud  like  snow, 
Flake  by  flake,  healing  and  hiding 
The  scar  of  our  deep-plunged  woe." 

53.  "  The  Puritan  revolt  had  made  us  ecclesiastically,  and  the 
Revolution  politically,  independent,  but  we  were  still  socially  and 
intellectually  moored  to  English  thought,  till  Emerson  cut  the  cable 
and  gave  us  a  chance  at  the  dangers  and  the  glories  of  blue 
water.  No  man  young  enough  to  have  felt  it  can  forget  or  cease  to 
be  grateful  for  the  mental  and  moral  nudge  which  he  received  from 
the  writings  of  his  high-minded  and  brave-spirited  countryman." 

54.  "  We  have  said  that  the  Transcendental  Movement  was  the 
Protestant  spirit  of  Puritanism  seeking  a  new  outlet  and  an  escape 
from  forms  and  creeds  which  compressed  rather  than  expressed  it." 

56.  "  Ah!  if  our  souls  but  poise  and  swing 

Like  the  compass  in  its  brazen  ring, 

Ever  level  and  ever  true 

To  the  toil  and  task  we  have  to  do, 

We  shall  sail  securely  and  safely  we  reach 

The  Fortunate  Isles,  on  whose  shining  beach 

The  sights  we  see  and  sounds  we  hear, 

Will  be  those  of  joy  and  not  of  fear." 

57.  "  Your  mind  is  tossing  on  the  ocean; 

There  where  your  argosies  with  portly  sail, 
Like  seigniors  and  rich  burghers  on  the  flood, 
Or,  as  it  were,  the  pageants  of  the  sea, 
Do  overpeer  the  petty  traffickers, 
That  courtesy  to  them,  do  them  reverence, 
As  they  fly  by  with  their  woven  wings." 

58.  "  He  would  be  crown'd; 

How  that  might  change  his  nature,  there  's  the  question; 
It  is  the  bright  day  that  brings  forth  the  adder." 


CONCLUSION. 

0 

The  first  chapter  dealt  with  the  Organizing  Princi- 
ple; and  in  that  chapter,  the  unity  of  the  whole  was 
ascertained  and  the  phases  of  it  developed.  These 
phases,  Purpose,  Thought,  and  Language,  have  been 
treated  in  relation  to  each  other  — ■  as  organic  parts  of 
discourse.  A  few  statements  in  conclusion  are  neces- 
sary to  bring  the  phases  together  in  one  view,  and 
thus  return  our  thought  to  the  unity  of  the  whole  from 
which  we  started.  Besides,  this  will  point  the  applica- 
tion of  the  science  of  discourse  to  the  student's  use  of 
construction  and  analysis.  So  far,  the  laws  have  been 
applied  separately  to  each  of  the  phases  of  discourse. 
The  student,  in  his  future  course  of  composition  and 
reading,  should  consciously  apply  the  theory  presented 
in  the  preceding  pages.  To  this  end,  a  brief  summary 
and  general  outline  are  here  given,  together  with  one 
illustration  of  their  application  to  a  piece  of  discourse. 

Discourse  was  defined  to  be  the  expression  of  thought 
in  language  with  a  definite  aim;  or,  the  expression  of 
thought  in  language  for  the  purpose  of  communication. 
This  gave  unity  to  our  theme  and,  at  the  same  time, 
the  basis  for  its  subdivision  into  the  phases,  Purpose, 
Thought,  and  Language.  Purpose  was  found  to  be 
the  most  fundamental  idea;  Thought  and  Language 
being  organized  as  means  about  Purpose  as  an  end. 
This  gave  rise  to  three  kinds  of  discourse,  having  dif- 


33^  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ferent  qualities  of  thought  and  language  in  adaptation 
to  the  three  ends  for  which  thought  is  communicated. 
The  whole  may  be  summarized  in  the  following:  — 

Universal  Outline  of  Discourse. 

1.  Prose.  —  i.  Purpose,  to  instruct,  to  present  truth 
for  its  own  sake;  (i)  to  present  individuals  to  the 
sensuous  or  picturing  imagination ;  (2)  to  present 
classes  to  the  judgment;  (3)  to  present  universals  to 
the  reason  —  Popular,  Scientific,  and  Philosophical 
Prose. 

2.  Thought,  matter-of-fact  truth  presented  for  its 
own  sake  by  the  logical  laws  of  thought,  —  individuals 
presented  in  their  statical  relations  by  Description, 
and  in  their  dynamical  relation  by  Narration;  generals 
presented  for  their  own  sake  by  Exposition,  and  in 
their  application,  to  test  truth  by  Argumentation. 

3.  Expression,  Clear,  with  Elegance  and  Energy 
subordinate. 

II.  Poetry.  —  1.  Purpose,  to  please  as  an  end  — 
to  touch  the  esthetic  emotions  —  instruction  a  means. 

2.  Thought,  idealized  truth  appealing  to  the  intui- 
tions, and  presented  by  means  of  Exposition  through 
the  subordinate  process  of  Exemplification. 

3.  Expression,  Elegant,  with  Clearness  and  Energy 
subordinate, — the  ideal,  universal  truth  presented  to 
the  mind  through  individual  forms. 

III.  Oratory.  —  1.  Purpose,  to  move  the  will  to 
some  definite  action  —  instruction  and  esthetic  pleas- 
ure being  means. 


conclusion.  337 

2.  Thought,  the  entire  range  presented  by  all  the 
discourse  processes;  yet  such  thought  as  bears  a  defi- 
nite relation  to  the  action  proposed. 

3.  Expression,  Energetic,  with  Clearness  and  Ele- 
gance as  means. 

Transforming  the  above  for  the  more  immediate  appli- 
cation in  construction  and  analysis  gives  the  following : — 

Universal  Outline  for  Practice. 

1.  Purpose. —  1.  What? — to  instruct,  to  please, 
or  to  move  the  will? 

2.  To  what  grade  of  either  is  the  discourse  adapted  ? 

II.  Theme.  —  1.  By  what  theme  is  the  purpose 
accomplished,  or  to  be  accomplished? 

2.  What  kind  of  theme  —  individual  or  general? 
If  individual,  by  what  process  presented,  Description 
or  Narration?  If  general,  by  Exposition  or  Argumen- 
tation ?  If  Exposition,  whether  matter-of-fact  or  ideal 
truth  ? 

3.  Analysis  of  the  particular  process  employed  into 
the  thought  relations  as  they  are  organized  in  the 
presentation  of  the  theme,  and  their  presentation 
tested  by  all  the  laws  of  the  process  —  Purpose,  Unity, 
Selection,  Method,  and  Completeness. 

III.  Style.  —  1.  From  the  purpose,  should  the 
style  be  Clear,  Elegant,  or  Energetic? 

2.  How  is  the  particular  quality  desired  secured? 
If  the  quality  desired  is  Clearness,  test  by  applying 
the  laws  of  Clearness;  if  Elegance,  by  applying  laws  of 
Elegance  ;  if  Energy,  by  applying  laws  of  Energy. 


338  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

From  this  point  the  student  is  ready  to  proceed  con- 
sciously and  systematically  with  his  general  practice  of 
reading  and  writing  —  of  interpreting  and  composing 
discourse.  One  phase  of  this  will  develop  into  and 
continue  as  a  special  and  formal  study,  called  the 
study  of  Literature.  It  is  hoped  that  the  foregoing 
exposition  of  discourse  will  form  the  basis  of  scientific 
literary  analysis.  In  conclusion,  to  point  the  way  in 
that  direction,  and  to  further  impress  the  general 
application  of  the  doctrine  of  discourse  to  practice,  a 
brief  outline  analysis  of  a  short  literary  selection  will 
now  be  given. 

Analysis  of  "The  Rainy  Day." 

The  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall, 
And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 

My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary; 
My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  Past, 
But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast, 
And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 

Be  still,  sad  heart  !  and  cease  repining; 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining; 
Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall, 

Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

The  purpose  of  the  poem  is  to  touch  the  emotions. 
This  our  experience  testifies  to  in  reading  it.      It  gives 


CONCLUSION.  3^g 

no  instruction;  neither  does  it  stimulate  to  any  definite 
volition  and  action.  The  emotion  does  not  prompt  -to 
action,  but  is  entertained  and  enjoyed  by  the  reader  for 
the  sake  of  the  emotion  itself.  In  reading  the  poem 
the  feelings  absorb  the  attention  to  the  exclusion  of 
both  intellectual  and  volitional  consciousness.  Hence, 
this  selection  is  a  poem,  or  piece  of  literature. 

But  the  effect  is  more  definite  than  that  of  arousing 
emotion  in  general;  to  be  a  poem  it  must  arouse  some 
particular  emotion.     At  the  outset  there  is  awakened, 
through  the  image  of  the  rainy  day,  the  vague  feeling  of 
depression.     This  is  the  setting  for  the  more  definite 
feeling  of  sadness,  which  is  overcome  by  the  hope  and 
cheer  of  life.     The  definite  effect   of  the  poem  thus 
appears  to  be  the  rally  of  life  over  the  trials  and  tribu- 
lations of  life;  it  is  a  spiritual  uprising  under  the  dead- 
ening weight  of  grief  and  melancholy,  — the  reclaiming 
of  oneself  when  hope  and  life  seem  lost;  an  idealized 
resolution  to  hold  on  to  life  in  spite  of  all  reverses  and 
undercurrents   which   tend   to  forestall   the  good   and 
promise  of  life. 

In  this  ideal  rally  of  life  this  selection  fills  another  re- 
quirement of  literature;  namely,  in  that  it  must  appeal 
to  the  universal  interests  of  life.  It  is  the  law  of  life 
that  the  soul  rise  upon  the  dead  self  to  higher  things. 
This  rally  of  life  above  depressing  influences  is  one  of 
the  ever-present  phases  of  human  life;  hence,  every  soul 
is  touched  by  the  theme  of  this  poem.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  note  how  many  of  Longfellow's  poems 
have  the  same  theme.  To  such  an  extent  is  this  true 
that  Longfellow  is  called  the  poet  of  consolation.    This 


340  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

arose  from  the  fact  that  he  was  painfully  sensitive  to 
such  visitations  of  sorrow,  and  equally  sensitive  to  the 
bright  and  cheerful  influence  of  life.  He  could  well 
exclaim  with  Byron:  "  Man  thou  pendulum  between  a 
smile  and  a  tear." 

All  literature  seeks  to  relieve  the  soul  from  some 
form  of  bondage,  and  each  selection  of  literature,  as  in 
the  present  case,  seeks  to  bring  relief  from  some  defi- 
nite limiting  condition  in  which  man  finds  his  spiritual 
nature.  In  this  selection  the  soul  finds  itself  limited 
by  sadness  or  grief,  and  it  must  overcome  its  sadness 
or  its  sadness  will  overcome  it.  It  is  the  typical  battle 
of  life  —  the  battle  for  life.  The  soul  must  either 
strive  to  persist  and  hold  its  own  or  to  make  distinct 
advances  in  self-realization.  All  literary  themes  fall 
under  one  or  the  other  of  these  two  forms  of  striving; 
the  "  Rainy  Day  "  is  a  type  of  one,  "  Excelsior  "  of  the 
other. 

The  theme  in  this  poem  is,  therefore,  emotionally 
and  universally  entertained,  as  required  by  all  true  liter- 
ary selections.  But  literature  deals  with  the  ideal  in 
human  life  rather  than  the  real.  In  the  present  case 
the  victory  over  the  tribulations  of  life  is  more  complete 
and  decisive  than  is  experienced  in  the  regular  order  of 
our  lives.  That  is,  the  sadness  and  the  cheer  are 
farther  apart ;  the  sadness  is  more  intense  and  the 
cheer  ideally  complete.  At  first  Longfellow  would 
have  us  feel  that  there  is  nothing  in  life  but  coldness, 
darkness,  and  dreariness;  would  produce  in  us  an  ideal 
condition  of  sadness,  in  order  to  produce  an  ideal  vic- 
tory over  it.     The  poem  consists  in  this  tension  of  the 


CONCLUSION.  34I 

opposite  conditions  of  life.  The  amplitude  and  inten- 
sity of  the  vibrating  chord  measure  the  poem.  If  a 
poem  on  the  same  theme  could  be  written  to  produce  a 
greater  amplitude  and  intensity  in  the  vibrating  chord 
it  would  be  a  better  poem.  This  would  not  be  a  poem 
were  not  the  experience  of  the  soul  more  prolonged 
and  intense  than  is  experienced  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  life.  Because  it  is  so  the  theme  is  an  ideal  rather 
than  a  real  condition  of  life. 

The  only  further  question  to  be  considered  is  how 
the  author  produces  the  foregoing  effect ;  that  is,  what 
in  his  language,  or  style,  gives  the  ideal  effect  desired. 

This  is  accomplished,  chiefly,  through  figurative,  or 
indirect,  language.  The  primary  conception  is  that  of 
life  in  the  form  of  a  rainy  day.  The  author  assumes 
that  life  is  a  rainy  day ;  hence  the  poem  is  allegorical, 
and  more  effective  than  if  the  comparison  were  directly 
made.  In  all  literature  the  theme  is  mirrored  forth  by 
a  concrete  object.  This  object  has  a  point  of  identity 
and  of  difference  with  the  life  which  it  expresses.  It 
is  by  means  of  this  likeness  and  difference  that  the 
theme  is  expressed.  If  Longfellow  had  asserted 
instead  of  assuming  he  would  have  said  that  life  is  a 
rainy  day.  They  differ  in  all  obvious  points,  but  there 
is  a  point  in  which  a  rainy  day  may  be  truly  affirmed  to 
be  human  life.  In  both  there  are  two  sides,  an  upper 
and  a  lower;  a  polarity,  a  tension,  a  warfare.  The 
rainy  day  and  life  are  identical  in  the  point  of  self- 
opposition  and  striving. 

But  every  literary  embodiment  must  have  not  only 
some  essential  point  of  identity  to  human  life,  but  must 


342  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

have  some  essential  point  of  difference.  In  this  case  the 
difference  lies  in  the  fact  of  the  perfect  and  permanent 
victory  of  the  sunshine  over  the  rainfall.  The  polarity 
between  the  opposing  forces  in  the  rainy  day  is  more 
definite  and  stronger  than  that  usually  found  in  life;  and 
the  triumph  of  one  over  the  other  is  more  signal  than  in 
the  other.  The  day  really  accomplishes  what  the  soul 
is  striving  to  accomplish.  What  is  ideal  in  life  is  real 
in  the  day.  This  is  the  exact  point  of  difference 
between  the  soul  and  the  day,  and  when  the  soul  looks 
into  the  day  and  finds  that  it  has  really  attained  the 
freedom  which  it  is  striving  to  attain  it  rejoices  in  its 
own  ideal  freedom.  Just  this  is  the  esthetic  freedom 
which  constitutes  the  essence  of  the  poem.  The  soul 
looks  into  the  day  and  finds  its  ideal  self-realized,  finds 
the  freedom  from  the  bondage  of  its  real.  This  sense 
of  freedom  is  the  specific  feeling  which  the  poem  is  to 
awaken. 

Thus  the  rainy  day,  through  its  identity  with  and 
difference  from  life,  makes  effective  the  tension  which 
the  poem  seeks  to  produce.  The  creative  act  of  the 
poet  was  in  discerning  ideal  life  mirrored  in  the  real 
day;  that  the  rainy  day,  in  overcoming  its  own  rain, 
coldness,  darkness,  and  dreariness,  is  a  type  of  the 
ideal  overcoming  of  the  trials  and  tribulations  of  life. 

The  elements  of  this  complex  primary  conception  are 
brought  out  in  secondary  figures  to  increase  the  effect 
-  the  tension.  These  leading  minor  figures  are  as 
follows:  — 

"  My  life  is  cold  and  dark  and  dreary."  The  poet 
would  have  us  feci  that  life  and  the  day  are  identical  in 


conclusion.  343 

being  cold  and  dark  and  dreary.  These  are  death  in 
one  case  as  in  the  other-  identical  in  effect.  This 
perception  sinks  life  lower,  and  thus  heightens  the 
effect.  The  identity  is  affirmed;  hence,  the  figure  is  a 
metaphor  and  is  more  effective  than  a  simile  would 
have  been,  since  it  would  have  given  only  resemblance. 

"  It  rains  and  the  wind  is  never  weary."  This  is  an 
indirect  statement,  for  the  author  would  have  us  hold 
back  of  the  image  the  idea  that  as  the  rain  and  the 
wind  never  cease  making  the  day  dreary,  so  the  adver- 
sities of  life  continue  filling  it  with  gloom  and  sadness. 
Conceiving  life  in  this  palpable  form  serves  again  to 
intensify  the  effect.  Besides,  the  form  of  statement 
being  allegorical  —  the  minor  term  only  given  — 
increases  the  effect  over  the  more  explicit  form  of 
comparison.  Of  course  there  is  more  risk  in  the  mean- 
ing not  being  discerned,  for  many  in  reading  this  state- 
ment have  only  the  concrete  image  without  the  idea 
symbolized. 

"My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  past." 
He  conceives  that  thoughts  cling  to  the  past  as  the 
vine  clings  to  the  wall:  vine  —  thought;  wall  —  past. 
Here  a  vine  is  assumed  to  be  identical  with  a  thought, 
while  to  all  appearances  there  are  nothing  but  striking 
differences.  They  differ  in  form,  size,  color,  parts,  etc., 
but  are  identical  in  the  point  of  clinging.  Clinging  is 
clinging,  wherever  and  in  whatever  it  be  found.  A 
vine  still  clinging  after  it  is  stripped  of  its  life  and  ver- 
dure is  a  fit,  an  effective,  symbol  for  the  tendency  of 
thoughts  to  turn  to  the  past  after  the  bitter  experiences 
of  life  have  saddened  and  deadened  them.     The  mould- 


344  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

ering  wall  is  a  fit  symbol  of  the  decay  and  dissolution 
of  our  mental  structures  as  they  are  disintegrated  by 
the  frosts  of  bitter  experiences.  This  concrete  concep- 
tion of  thoughts  and  life  further  sinks  life  in  sadness 
and  heightens  the  tension  which  the  poem  is  striving 
to  secure.  The  figure  here  used  is  a  metaphor,  but  it 
differs  from  the  other  in  that  the  identity  is  implied, 
and  is  thus  a  still  stronger  statement. 

"But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast." 
Here  with  all  their  striking  differences  hopes  are  con- 
ceived as  identical  with  leaves,  and  they  are  so  since 
falling  equals  falling.  To  conceive  hopes  as  passing 
away  in  the  concrete  form  of  leaves  falling  in  the  blasts 
of  wind  and  rain  still  further  intensifies  the  sadness 
and  makes  stronger  the  tension.  This  figure  is  a  meta- 
phor, as  in  the  foregoing,  and  is  effective  because  of 
its  quick  grasping  of  identity  between  hopes  and  leaves 
falling  in  blasts. 

Let  it  be  observed  that  in  all  these  minor  figures 
there  is  an  increase  in  the  feeling  of  sadness;  that  they 
are  used  for  that  purpose,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the 
figure.  It  is  not  sufficient  merely  to  classify  a  figure, 
but  it  must  be  explained  in  terms  of  the  effect  of  the 
whole  selection. 

While  the  foregoing  figures  sink  life  lower  and  thus 
increase  the  tension,  those  which  follow  exalt  life  and 
increase  the  tension  through  opposition  to  the  former. 

"Be  still,  sad  heart  !  '  Emotions  personified.  Also 
faded  metaphor  in  "heart."  This  is  the  self-assertion 
against  the  downward  tendencies  of  life.  The  personifi- 
cation is  secondary  to  the  imperative  command. 


conclusion.  345 

"  Behind  the  cloud  is  the  sun  still  shining."  As  the 
sun  is  always  shining  beyond  the  clouds  so  there  may 
be  permanent  cheer  even  in  the  present  life  of  sadness. 
This  is  the  figure  which  really  brings  the  victory.  The 
complete  victory  of  the  day  is  the  assurance  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  complete  victory  in  life.  Here  again  we 
have  an  allegory,  the  minor  term,  or  the  image,  only 
being  given,  while  the  major  term  and  the  comparison 
are  implied.  How  much  this  form  of  statement  con- 
tributes to  the  effect  will  appear  by  changing  it  to  some 
other  figure. 

"  Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall;  some  days  must 
be  dark  and  dreary."  In  this  conception  life  and  the 
day  are  identical  in  that  both  have,  by  their  nature, 
the  conflict  within  themselves;  that  the  law  of  the  day 
and  of  life  are  the  same.  Each  must  have  its  lower 
turmoil;  and  since  this  is  the  essential  nature  of  each, 
we  should  not  wish  to  be  rid  of  the  darkness  and  dreari- 
ness of  either.  To  do  so  would  be  to  destroy  both  life 
and  the  clay.  Life  is  in  and  through  tension,  and  every 
tension  must  have  the  terms  between  which  it  exists. 
Here  the  identity  is  implied  and  the  major  term  given; 
hence,  a  metaphor. 

It  is  well  to  note  here  how  complete  is  the  concrete 
embodiment;  the  day  as  a  whole  typifying  life,  and  then 
the  elements  of  the  day  typifying  the  phases  of  life. 
This  not  only  gives  richness  and  variety  to  the  concep- 
tion, but  also  organic  unity.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  poem  more  pervaded  with  figurative  conception, 
and  at  the  same  time  having  the  figures  so  interwoven 
and  organized  into  one  spiritual  type.    This  adds  to  the 


346  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

beauty  of  simple  figures  that  of  organic  beauty  —  variety 
in  unity. 

In  the  first  line  of  the  first  and  second  stanzas  the 
polysyndeton  is  employed  with  good  effect.  The 
repetition  of  "  ands "  emphasizes  the  accumulation 
of  the  adversities  of  life.  Let  these  lines  be  read 
omitting  the  first  "and,"  and  then  again  substi- 
tuting it,  and  the  emotional  value  of  this  figure  will 
clearly  appear. 

While  the  chief  literary  value  of  the  poem  is  in  its 
figurative  language,  still  much  depends  on  the  sensuous 
qualities  of  the  language  —  its  euphony  and  its  rhythm. 
The  mere  sound  of  the  first  line  in  the  first  and  second 
stanzas  awakens  a  vague  feeling  of  sadness.  This  is 
especially  marked  in  the  sound  o.  This  wailing  sound 
is  much  used  to  intensify  grief  and  melancholy. 

Especially  is  the  rhythm  of  the  poem  an  efficient 
means  of  intensifying  the  feeling.  Intense  emotion  is 
rhythmical,  and  rhythmical  language  is  the  natural  lan- 
guage of  emotion,  and  serves,  therefore,  to  heighten 
emotion.  The  tension  in  this  poem  is  made  slightly 
stronger  through  the  alliterations  dark,  dreary,  wind, 
weary;  and  especially  since  these  are  repeated  in  each 
stanza.  The  rhymes  have  a  similar  effect.  The  rhymes 
are  perfect  and  successive,  the  fifth  rhyming  with  the 
first  and  second,  except  in  the  last  stanza.  Thus  there 
is  effective  variety. 

The  most  important  fact  in  the  rhythm  is  the  meas- 
ure of  the  verses.  This  is  iambic  tetrameter,  with  an 
occasional  anapaestic  foot  substituted  to  give  variety 
and  a  quicker   movement    when    needed.      Variety  is 


conclusion.  347 

further  secured  by  giving  an  extra  syllable  at  the  end 
of  the  first  two  lines  of  each  stanza. 

Especially  effective  is  the  rhythm  made  by  repeating 
in  a  fifth  verse  in  each  of  the  three  stanzas  the  meaning 
of  the  first  verse  in  the  first  and  second  stanzas.  These 
fifth  verses  repeat  the  meaning  already  given,  and  are 
there  only  for  rhythmical  fullness.  This  is  character- 
istic of  Hebrew  poetry;  the  last  half  of  a  line  in  the 
Psalms  repeats  the  meaning  of  the  first  half.  This  ele- 
ment of  rhythm  is  characteristic  of  both  Tennyson  and 
Longfellow.  The  thought  becomes  so  highly  emotional 
that  it  tends  to  recur  in  rhythmical  repetition.  By 
reading  the  poem  omitting  the  last  line  of  each  stanza, 
the  value  of  these  lines  will  become  apparent. 

And,  further,  the  stanzas  bear  an  organic  and  rhyth- 
mical relation  to  each  other  which  enhances  the  beauty 
of  the  poem.  The  whole  poem  thus  appears  as  a 
complex,  organic,  rhythmical  unit. 

Finally,  the  poem  is  made  still  more  concrete  and 
effective  by  having  the  personal  embodiment  of  the 
author  himself  —  by  being  lyrical.  The  universal  objec- 
tive is  made  real  and  vivid  in  being  regarded  as  indi- 
vidual and  subjective.  Longfellow  says  "  my  life," 
but  no  one  supposes  he  means  merely  his  own  life  ; 
the  reader,  whoever  he  may  be,  must  say  "  my  life." 
Thus  the  reader  makes  it  a  close  personal  matter  with 
himself. 

It  thus  appears  that  the  analysis  of  this  poem  consists 
in  organizing  the  means  by  which  the  specific  emotional 
effect  is  produced.  Were  it  a  didactic  selection,  then 
all  must  be  shown  to  have  unity  in  some  cognition; 


348  THE    SCIENCE    OF    DISCOURSE. 

and  were  it  an  oration,  everything  must  be  shown  in 
its  tendency  to  move  the  will. 

For  a  full  exposition  of  the  nature  of  literature  and 
method  of  literary  analysis,  see  the  author's  "  Literary 
Interpretations." 


INDEX 


Activity,  55. 

Aesop,  119. 

Aim,  a  definite,  16  ;  a  worthy,  19; 
intense,  28. 

Allegory,  318. 

Alliteration,  217. 

Amphibrach,  213. 

Analogy,  143. 

Analysis,  53. 

Anapaestic  foot,  213. 

Angelus,  1 1. 

Antithesis,  323. 

Aphaeresis,  290. 

Apocope,  290. 

Apostrophe,  317. 

Argumentation,  59,  137  ;  general 
laws  of,  160;  exercises  in,  168. 

Arguments,  a  priori,  148  ;  a  pos- 
teriori, 1 52 ;  by  signs  and  re- 
semblances, 1 53  ;  by  testimony, 
157;  by  authority,  160. 

Arrangement  of  the  sentence,  the 
proper,  255. 

Art  of  literary  criticism,  22. 

Aspects,  two,  57. 
.  Association,  figures  of,  299. 

Asyndeton,  292. 

Attributes  of  the  theme,  49 ;  of 
relation,  62. 

Attributive  description,  62. 

Author,  19. 

Authority,  argument  by,  160. 


Barbarism,  223. 

Bascom,  192,  193. 

Bathos,  325. 

Biography,  73. 

Blair,  209. 

Boundary  of  subject-matter,  1. 

Brevity,  200. 

Byron,  206,  324. 

Carlyle,  181. 

Cause  and  effect,  62  ;  the  relation 

of,  65,    97 ;    in   argumentation, 

146. 
Change  as  a  whole,  the,  96;  in  its 

parts,  98. 
Chaucer,  31,  66,  181. 
Cicero,  21. 
Circumlocution,  244. 
Class  unit,  56. 
Classification,  38. 
Classify,  35. 
Clearness,    174,    177;    conditions 

for  securing,  185. 
Climax,  324. 
Combination,  291. 
Comparison  and  contrast,  117. 
Composer,  33 ;  chooses  a  theme, 

46. 
Composition,  art  of,  44. 
Concept,  56,  58. 
Conciseness,  241. 
Conclusion,  335. 


350 


INDEX. 


Concreteness,  230. 

Construction  of  description,  81  ; 
of  narration,  103  ;  of  exposition, 
128. 

Content  of  the  class,  112;  of  the 
theme,  1 13. 

Correctness,  5,  199. 

Critic,  23. 

Criticism,  standard  of,  28;  liter- 
ary, 38. 

Culture,  all-sided,  21,  24. 

Dactylic  foot,  213. 

Deduction,  139. 

Definition,  113;  law  of,  114;  rule 
for  making,  116. 

Description,  55,  59,  61  ;  attribu- 
tive, 62;  partitive,  75;  outline 
of,  80;  illustrations  of,  81;  ex- 
ercises in,  89. 

Didactic  discourse,  34. 

Difference,  no  unity  without,  48 
likeness  and,  62. 

Discourse,  6,  8  ;  definition  of,  12 
purpose  in,  13  ;  skill  in,  21  ;  lit 
erary,  34;  the  thought  in,  41 
four  processes  in,  59. 

Distinctness,  199;  of  conception, 
263. 

Effective  speech,  46. 

Effectiveness,  18;  conditions  of, 
iq  ;  laws  of,  178. 

Efficient  means,  13. 

Elegance,  174,  182;  conditions  for 
securing,  194. 

Elements,  the  organic,  8 ;  order 
of,  9;  organic  relation  of,  10; 
unities  of,  53;  organization  of, 
into  theme,  241  ;  the  proper 
order  of  presenting,  255. 


Ellipsis,  291. 

Elocutionist,  the  true,  30. 

Emphatic  ideas,  270. 

Enallage,  295. 

End,  a  worthy,  13. 

Energy,  174,  179  ;  conditions  for 
securing,  191. 

Enthymeme,  141. 

Epanalepsis,  293. 

Epenthesis,  291. 

Epigram,  325. 

Epizeuxis,  294. 

Euphemism,  302. 

Euphony,  202. 

Exemplification,  118. 

Exercises  in  description,  89-92 ; 
in  narration,  109,  no;  in  expo- 
sition, 134;  in  argumentation, 
168  ;  in  synonyms,  239;  in  par- 
onyms, 239 ;  in  poetic  form, 
219;  in  verbosity,  245;  in  sen- 
tence unity,  265 ;  in  classifying 
figures,  329-334. 

Exposition,  59,  1 1 1  ;  outline  of, 
1 28;  illustrations  of,  128. 

Extension,  70. 

Extent  of  a  class,  112;  of  the 
theme,  123. 

Factor,  controlling,  33 ;  invariable, 

34- 
Factors,  two,  60. 

Fallacy,  150. 

Familiarity,  222. 

Figures  of  speech,  289 ;  spelling, 
290  ;  syntax,  291  ;  thought,  295; 
association,  299;  comparison, 
304  ;  expressed  comparison, 
307  ;  implied  comparison,  309 ; 
contrast,  323. 


INDEX. 


351 


Foot,  212. 

Form  and    content   of   language, 

172. 
Form  and  size,  71. 
Fundamental    ends  of   discourse, 

38,  59- 

General,  the,  58. 

General  notion,  1 12. 

Gilmore,  "Outlines  of  Rhetoric," 

293- 
Graduating  theme,  32. 
Greece,  history  of,  41. 
Guidance,  54. 

Habit  of  reading,  45. 

Harmony,  207;  in  discourse,  211. 

Hawthorne,  1 19. 

Henry,  Patrick,  29. 

High-school  pupil,  32. 

Hill,  A.  S.,  165,  225,  251,  310. 

Hill,  D.  J.,  244,  253,  264. 

Humor,  328. 

Hyperbole,  318. 

Iambic  foot,  213. 

Idea,  origin  in,  55. 

Idealization,  120. 

Ideas,  association  of  language 
forms  with,  222. 

Illustrated,  the  process  of  descrip- 
tion, 81  ;  narration,  103;  expo- 
sition, 128. 

Independence,  Declaration  of,  44. 

Individual,  54,  58. 

Induction,  141  ;  lowest  phase  of, 
144  ;  highest  phase  of,  145. 

Inference,  140. 

Interpret  with  efficiency,  45. 

Interpretation  of  description,  86; 
narration,  106;  exposition,  132. 


Interpreter,  19. 
Interrogation,  326. 
Irony,  327. 
Irving,  37,  66,  101. 

Judgment,  58,  137. 

Language  units,  2;  in  discourse, 
171  ;  fundamental  law  of,  173; 
qualities  required,  174  ;  inter- 
pretation of,  197  ;  an  object  of 
perception,  198;  literal,  284; 
figurative,  285. 

Law  of  unity  in  definition,  116; 
comparison  and  contrast,  117. 

Laws  of  partition,  77-79. 

Likeness  and  difference,  62-68; 
order  of  presenting,  69,  97. 

Location  of  an  object,  67. 

"  Logic,"  Mill's,  146. 

Longfellow,  288. 

Lowell,  42,  181,  244. 

Macbeth,  290,  312. 

Maclaren,  Ian,  73. 

"  Maud  Muller,"  132. 

Means,  62. 

Mental  state,  presenting  a,  66. 

Metaphor,  309;  exercises  in,  313. 

Metonymy,  302. 

Milton,  21,  294. 

Motive,  genuine,  30. 

Movements  of  thought,  53. 

Narration,  55-59,  93  ;  compared 
with  description,  93 ;  first  step 
in,  96  ;  second  step  in,  98;  out- 
line of,  102;  illustrations  of  law 
of  unity  in,  100;  exercises  in, 
109. 


352 


INDEX. 


( )bject,  a  spiritual,  72. 
Objects,  individual,  59,  63. 
Obsolete  words,  223. 
Omission  of  words,  276. 
Oration,  basis  of,  35,  36. 
Oratory,  34,  35. 
Organic  elements,  the,  8. 
Organization  of  the  elements  into 

the  theme,  241. 
Organizing  principle,  the,  I,  12. 

Parable,  322. 

Paragraph,  282. 

Paragoge,  291. 

Paronomasia,  326. 

Paronyms,  239. 

Particular,  1 13. 

Partition,  law  of,  77. 

Partitive  description,  75. 

Parts  coexist,  the,  54. 

Personification,  description  by,  65, 

3r4- 

Perspicuity,  174. 

Phelps,  27,  193,  287. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  29. 

Place,  time  and,  62. 

Pleonasm,  229. 

Poetry,  34,  36. 

Polysyndeton,  294. 

Pope,  31. 

Position  of  words  in  sentence,  267. 

Precision,  234. 

Process  of  description,  61  ;  par- 
tition, 77;  narration,  93;  expo- 
sition, in;  definition,  113;  com- 
parison and  contrast,  117;  ex- 
emplification, 118;  idealization, 
F2o;  division,  124;  argumenta- 
tion, 137. 

Processes,  discourse,  53,  59. 


Prolixity,  248. 
Properties,  70. 
Prose,  34. 
Prosthesis,  291. 
Pun,  326. 
Purity,  223. 

Purpose  in  discourse,  1 3 ;  to  the 
reader,  1 5  ;  attributes  of,  63,  96. 

Qualities,  primary,  secondary,  70, 
71;  of  language,  174;  the  rhe- 
torical, secured,  196. 

Quintilian,  20-22. 

Rainbow,  the,  42. 

Reasoning  by  deduction,  140. 

Redundancy,  243. 

Relation,  attributes  of,  62-68 ;   of 

language  to  thought,  the  direct, 

221  ;  the  indirect,  284. 
Relative  words,  274. 
Resistance,  70. 
Rhyme,  216. 

Rhythm,  211  ;  exercises  in,  219. 
Rhythmical  flow,  52. 

Secondary  attributes,  74. 
Sentence,    proper  length    of   the, 

249.. 
Sentences,  periodic,  loose,  257. 
Shakespeare,  17,  31. 
Simile,  307. 
Simpson,  Bishop,  29. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  238,  258. 
Stanza,  217. 

Style,  affectation  of,  26,  173. 
Subject-matter,    boundary    of,    2  ; 

arrangement  of,  51. 
Syllogism,  139. 
Syncope,  290. 


INDEX. 


353 


Synecdoche,  300. 
Synonyms,  239. 
Synthesis,  53. 

Tautology,  243. 

Testimony,  argument  by,  157. 

Theme,  the,  41-49  ;  in  description, 
62  ;  in  narration,  94  ;  in  exposi- 
tion, hi. 

Thought  in  discourse,  the,  41. 

Time  and  place,  62,  96. 

Triangle,  55. 

Trochaic  foot,  213. 

Two  objects,  63. 

Unit,  organic,  class,  56. 

Units,  language,  2. 

Unity,  43 ;  in  discourse,  46  ;  class, 
57;  law  of,  in  narration,  100- 
105;   maintained,    108  ;   law  of, 


in  definition,  116;  in  compari- 
son and  contrast,  118;  in  divi- 
sion, 125;  in  argumentation, 
138,  163;  of  sentence  structure, 
262  ;  of  discourse  structure, 
278. 
Universal,  113. 

Value  of  a  witness,  1 59. 

Verbosity,  242  ;  exercises  in,  245. 

Verse,  215. 

Vision,  317. 

"Vision  of  Sir  Launfal,"  44. 

Whittier,  37,  324,  327. 

Whole,  simultaneous,  successive, 

55  ;  changes  as,  96. 
Wholes,  parts  bounded  into,  57. 
Wit,  327. 
Witnesses,  difference  in,  158,  159. 


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